

®fje ^flpstcrp 0i “tKfje ©cbtl’s! Ettcfjcn” 

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Cttjer fetoues. 

George ©rcisbacfj. 

Contents. 

When The War la Over. 

Written when the armistice was signed. 


Page. 

The Mystery of “The Devil’s Kitchen.” 1 

Impressions. 6 

“I Got You.” 10 

The Lumberman’s Daughter. 12 

A Young Hero. 18 

Tresckow Falls. 20 

The First Settlers. 21 

The Ford’s Feat. 23 

“The Pulpit Rock.” 24 

“The Slide.” 26 

Roy’s Awakening. 31 

A Girl Worth While. 35 

The Little Slate Picker. 42 



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TUben tbc war is over anb tbe cannons cease to roar; 

TO ben tbe bloobv sworb is sbeatbeb, anb fighting is no more; 
TUben bullets quit tbeir hissing; anb bayonets tbeir thrusts; 
Bnb kings anb rulers conquereb arc shorn of all tbeir lusts; 
TUben our brave, valiant solbier boss, ease tbc triggers bown 
^Because tbes know tbe tricks foe is parteb from bis crown; 
TIUben tbe ships tbat ribc tbe air, anb tbose that sail tbe sea, 
Bre placeb in peaceful harbors, making air anb water free; 
TUben poison gas is bottleb up; barbeb wire baleb awas; 

Bnb submarines arc burieb beep wbere tbes'U forever stas; 
Bnb all rbe otber mobes of war are sileneeb bs tbe gun— 
Uben we ace sure we've beaten them anb victors is won, 

TUbat a bemonstration in this wibc worlb tbcre'll be, 

TUben from tbe soke of tsranns tbc people know tbes're free. 
Ubc monarchies will not exist; tbe laits will feel 
Safe from tbe grip of autocrats with whom tbev coulb not beat. 
Ubc worlb will work in barmons anb strive all nations will 
Uo stifle war ambitions, to rebuce warfare to nil. 

Ube fear of $ob will bominatc, no one again will trs 
Uo rule tbe worlb bv force of arms against tbe flban on bigb. 
Ube fear of war will never be a tborn in life's patbwas, 
Conflict anb strife no longer rule; peace will forever stas. 
Bnb tbe commanb "Xovc one another" bs all will be obeseb, 
Until tbe time we're calleb on bigb anb final count is mabe. 

TUben tbe boss come marebing borne, bow bapps all will be 
Uo join tbe loveb ones left bebinb, when tbes crosseb tbc sea. 
B mother's kiss will be sublime, ber heart will beat with pribe, 
Tber cses will ligbt with pleasure for ber son wbo's bs fccr sibc. 
B sister with ber escs aglow, all of a tremble stanbs, 

Uo greet ber solbier brother, to grasp bis loving banbs. 

B wife comes forwarb eagerls, ber heart tbrobs iosfullv, 

Jfor busbanb bas rcturneb to ber, from war lorbs be is free, 

B bua, a kiss, a fonb embrace, worbs of enbearment sweet, 
©bow* lovers reuniteb, it is Jos to see tbem meet. 

Cbilbren crowb arounb papa, tbcs're glabbe's borne once more, 
Uo fonble anb to plas with them, to roll tbem on tbc floor. 

fin a room a mother sits, she watches, but in vain, 

©be listens for tbe footsteps tbat will never sounb again. 

B father too, bows low bis bcab; bis pribe, bis ios, is gone; 

B moan of anguisb comes from bim; 'tis for bis onls son. 
©ister, brotber, cbilbren too, all miss tbe one wbo lies 
IDeab anb colb, beneath tbe grounb, unber foreign skies. 

B sweetbeart mourns, ber lover’s gone, be was true anb brave, 
fi?is manls form, kbaki*clab, is in a foreign grave. 

B woman watches wistfully, sbe useb to be a wife, 

JSut busbanb now lies over tbere, wbere be gave up bis life. 
Jfor freeborn all have given, some more tban tbe rest; 
jSuttbose wbo sacrificebJbeit^ivcs, rpe love tbem tbc best. 

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About a mile west of Upper Lehigh, in the state of Pennsylvania, 
there is a row of rocks, along the mountain edge, known as “The Dev- 
il's Kitchen.” There is a depression in the mountain at this place and 
it forms a defile called “Hell Kitchen Hollow.” The soubriquets were 
given to both places by soldiers of the Revolutionary War. 

On a pleasant summer day in the year 1777, a young, pretty girl, 
was riding, on horseback, through the woods north of the creek that is 
now called “The Honey Hole.” She arrived at the creek and without 
a moment’s hesitation urged the horse into the water. On the other 
side she rode to the foot of the mountain, tied the horse to a tree, took 
» a bag, containing her lunch, from the saddle, then started to climb the 
mountain, and being a strong, robust girl, she soon reached the top. 
8he sat on a rock to rest, while she viewed the beautiful scene below. 
The birds calling to each other, and the noise of a stream of water, as 
it tumbled over the rocks, down through the defile, on its way to ths 
creek, were the only sounds she could hear. Suddenly a deer appeared 
from behind a thicket, bounded across an opening and disappeared 
among the trees, the girl admiring the splendid animal until it disap- 
peared. 

It was almost noon so she decided to eat her lunch. She got a pail 
from its hiding place between two rocks, and filled it with water from a 
spring near-by, and soon she was busy eating. When she finished the 
lunch she put the pail away, then walked over to the edge of the rocks 
and looked at the wild, rugged scenery along the mountain side. With- 
in fifty feet of where she stood was a curious freak of nature. A mas- 
sive pine tree had grown out through a break in the rocks, extending 
about forty feet in the air, over the chasm, and was at least sixty feet 
above the loose rocks underneath. The trunk pitched upward at a 
slight angle and the many limbs projecting from it made it easy to 
walk out to near the end. The maiden had been out on the tree many 
times so she did not pause an instant but stepped on the trunk and by 
grasping the limbs as she went along, thus balancing herself, she got 
to a point near the end, where she eat down, a convenient limb making 
an excellent place to lean back against. Sometimes she would sing or 
bum songs while she watched the birds flit from tree to tree; then she’d 
keep silent and listen to the warbling of the feathered songsters. Then 
•he'd ga*e dreamily at the beautiful scene. Chipmunks, rabbits and 
squirrels were in evidence among the rocks and trees, and her eyes 
glowed with pleasure as she watched them. She seemed to be very 
happy and contented, even though it was a lonely place. She stayed 
on the tree about two hours, then worked her way back to the rock. 

Close to where the Country Clubhouse, near Hasleton, now stands 


2 

was a detachment of Continental troops. A handsome young fellow; 
dressed in a lieutenant’s uniform, left the encampment, on horsebaok, 
and proceeded through the woods in the direction of “The Devil’* 
Kitchen.” His superior officer had sent him out to reconnoitre and he 
went that way. Was it destiny? Surely he had no knowledge of what 
was to take place for he whistled softly and hummed songs as he went 
through the woods. Sometimes he had to dismount and lead his horse 
through the thick brush, but most of the way he could proceed with- 
out difficulty. About a mile south of the rocks where the girl was, he 
tied his horse to a tree, then he walked toward the rocks. His surprise 
was great when he saw the girl. She was gazing down the defile so she 
did not see him until he stepped forward. Had it been a bear she prob- 
ably would not have been so frightened, but the unexpected appear- 
ance of the young man startled her, and she screamed, and started to 
run, and she almost went headlong over the edge of the rocks. He 
rushed forward and grabbed her and the impetus almost carried both 
of them over. She stopped struggling when she realized that he. did 
not intend to harm her. He let go his hold of her and they gazed into 
each other’s eyes, and in that instant they realized the truth of the 
aphorism: “Love at first sight.” She sat down and invited him to sit 
by her. 

He was mystified and he asked her questions, but she would not 
give him any information as to where she came from or why she wa* 
there. She was astonished when he told her about the war, and when 
he told her what they were fighting for, she promptly gave her senti- 
ments in favor of freedom. She told him to call her “Bella” and he 
gave his name as "Richard.” They talked for awhile, their interest in 
each other getting stronger every moment. 

Suddenly she leaped to her feet. “I must go,” she said; “but if you 
can be here to-morrow, at noon, you can have lunch with me.” She 
told him not to follow her, so he returned to his horse, mounted the 
animal, and rode back to the camp. 

Richard easily obtained permission from his commander to go out 
again the next day. He was in good favor with his superior officer, but 
he did not tell him about the girl. She had enjoined silence, and he 
felt that he could trust her. His heart beat faster as he neared the 
rocks. Would she be there? How disappointed he would be if she did 
not come! But she was there and was busy getting the meal ready 
when he arrived. She greeted him with a bright smile, and a cheerful 
“good morning” but he was notsatisfied. He held out his arms, and 
she hesitated but an instant, then with a glad cry she threw herself 
info his arms, and their lips met in a kiss that thrilled both of them. 
They ate the meal in silence; she with a feeling that was new to her, 
lie with his heart beating rapidly. 

After they finished eating they went out to her favorite spot on 
the tree, she with easy grace acquired from her former trips, he with 
some misgiving. He shuddered as he thought of the consequences of 
a fall. When they were safely seated out near the end of the tree he 
started to ask her questions about herself, but she begged him to 
desist, so he reluctantly obeyed her. 

# “Look at the beautiful scene,” she said. “Isn’t the creek grand? 
It is like a long string of diamonds with some missing here and there. 
See, along the mountain side, down in the hollow, and up along the 
other side: the gaint oak frees, those gorgeous pines, the stately chest- 
nut and the beautiful maple trees, clustered here and there, and scat- 
tered about; the bushes in between; then these rocks all around and 
under us — it all makes a fine picture, don't you think so?” 


3 

He looked over the valley, and though the beauty of it was im- 
pressive, he was more interested in the sweet girl by his side. Her 
aparkliug eyes, as she viewed the landscape, and the roses in her 
cheeks, pleased him very much. 

“ Yes, it is great,” he assented, “nothing else on earth can equal 
the wonders and beauties of nature.’ 1 

“That’s just it,” she said. *‘I have reflected over this scene many 
times. It has made a deep, lasting impression on me. It shows the 
vastnees of the Creator’s works, and it makes me feel insignificant. 
I’ve had a queer experience on this tree. One afternoon a thunder- 
storm suddenly arose along the river, that is about fifteen miles north 
©f us. and it was awful,. though it did not rain here. The thunder and 
lightning was terrible. It came here so suddenly that I was afraid to 
* try to get off this tree. A giant oak tree, a hundred feet from here, 
was hit by the lightning, and was shattered to pieces. Several un- 
usually hard crashes of thunder caused me to almost fall off the tree. 
Then it became very dark, and it seemed, at times, as if the whole 
mountain side was one mass of flame, from the lightning. It was pretty 
to look at, but I was frightened; I was afraid that this tree would be 
struck. I hope I shall never go through such an experience again.” 

He caught her in his arms and held her tightly, as if to shield her 
from harm, and he pressed a kiss of sympathy on her lips. "What a 
trying situation to be placed in!” he exclaimed, but she smiled as she 
said to him: “That wasn’t the worst of it; what followed was dread- 
ful.” 

“Tell me about it,” he requested. “I should think that you had 
enough witnout anything else happening.” 

She closed her eyes for a moment or two, as if to Bhut out an un- 
pleasant scene, thenshesaid: “The thunder and lightning ceased, and 
the wind suddenly arose and before 1 had time to get off this tree a 
gust of wind came up through the defile; and then it seemed as if the 
whole mountain was being torn to pieces! This tree is held fast be- 
tween the rocks; that is probably what kept it from being pulled out 
by the roots for it was directly in the path of the wind. The tree 
swayed back and forth, and twice I was shaken off the trunk, and I 
hung in the air, expecting every moment to be my last. 1 managed to 
get back each time, after a hard struggle. The wind seemed to blow 
harder, and the roar was awful. I can account for the noise increasing 
only by the fact that the beginning of the defile is very wide, and the 
•ides taper in, and the bottom elopes up to this point, which gives it 
the appearance of a large cone, cut in half. As the wind rushed for- 
ward, closing into smaller space, roaring through the trees on the sides 
and bottom, the din was deafening. I thought that the end of the 
world had come! A huge boulder was shaken loose and it crashed 
down among the trees, snapping them off as if they were pipestems. 
The wind abated as suddenly as it arose, and the sun came out. Every- 
thing became so peaceful and quiet that if the evidence of the affair 
had not been before me, I would have thought I had dreamt it. I 
have thanked God many times for having spared my life.” 

Richard had remained silent during her recital, though his face 
got pale as he realised the danger she had been in. He drew her close 
to him and said: “I also thank Him for having spared you. Bella, I 
met you only yesterday, but in that short time I have learned to care 
lor you. Do you love me?” f 

She looked straight into his eyes as she answered; “Yes, Richard. 

I do love you. I never realised, until yesterday, what it meant to love 
other than my own kin. Now Listen. She started to sing a love song, 


and her voice was sweet and clear, and surpassed any he had ever 
heard before. He leaned forward, and listened eagerly, his heart beat- 
ing rapidly, his eyes shining with the joy of love. It was during the 
eecond verse that the terrible incident, that resulted fatally, occured. 
These two young folks had just discovered each other and had fallen 
in love. They were in the prime of life, and a bright future seemed to 
be ahead of them. The whole world was so bright, and no visible 
clouds were in sight to mar their happiness. They had not told each 
other any personal history, but both were contented. No inkling of 
of the catastrophe, that blighted their lives, came to them. She was 
singing the second verse when a loud noise, like an explosion, was 
heard, and the pine tree was torn from between the rocks. The two 
human forms were hurled to the rocks below, and the tree crashed 
down into other trees. In a moment everything was quiet again, but 
on the rocks below were the two bodies, battered and bruised. 

A few hours later a special detail of soldiers, from the camp, found 
the injured pair. The noise had been heard by the troops, ana the de- 
tail of soldiers had been sent out to investigate. Tenderly they car- 
ried the bruised bodies to the top of the rocks. Both were alive, but 
were unconscious. The camp surgeon worked hard to bring them to, 
and knowing that the end was near, he told them the truth. It was a 
bitter moment for them, but they realized that the Great Guiding 
Hand was at work. 

. They were resting side by side, and though they were suffering 
intense pain, they did not complain. Richard told the story and when 
he finished he was very weak. He bid his soldier friends good-bye, 
then, with an effort, he rose on one arm, and looked down into the 
eyes of the girl so dear to him. His voice was scarcely audible, but 
everything was so quiet that the soldiers heard every word. “Bella, 
we are going to a land of sunshine and joy. God is going to deprive us 
of the earthly pleasure of each other's society, but He surely will not 
bar us from eternal bliss. He is taking both of us, and I am sure it is 
for the best. It is hard to give up the plans and ambitions I formed 
since we met yesterday, and which I had expected to carry out, after 
the end of the war.'* 

The shadow of death hung over them as she answered. Her voice 
was even lower than his, but the listening group heard every word. “I 
also believe it is for the best, although I can not understand it. God is 
good and if He wants us to spend the future with Him and the angels, 
we must submit to His will. God is love, and love is the ruling force in 
all thmgs.’’ She was getting weaker; so was Richard. She looked up at 
the officer who had charge of the soldiers and asked him to say a prayer 
for them. The officer’s voice trembled as spoke the desired words. 
The tears ran down his cheeks as he appealed to the Saviour to bless 
the departing spirits. His “amen” was echoed by all the soldiers in 
the group. 

Richard bent his head down and his lips met Bella's with a linger- 
j ® . drew away they heard him murmur softly: “Good-bye 

darling, until we meet in Heaven.” She smiled faintly and said: 

Good-bye Richard I—" she ceased speaking, and he fell back. The 
surgeon examined them and he said that both had passed away at the 
same moment. Then those soldiers, who faced the enemy without 
flinching, and who dared the bullets that carried death, broke down, 
and wept bitterly. 

Suddenly a voice calling: “Bella, Bella, where are you?'* was 
beard and before any one could do or say anything, an old man, with 
whiskers and hair snow-white, rushed from between the trees on the 


fiorth. "Bella, my daughter, where are you?” he called again as he 
came into the circle of soldiers. When he saw the two lifeless forms he 
gare one scream of agony and fell on the bodies. An examination 
showed that he was dead! He probably heard the noise and came to 
investigate. Most likely he had a weak heart and the sight of his dead 
daughter was more than he could bear. 

The soldiers took the three bodies back to the camp. Every man, 
from the commander down, was grieved when the news of Richard’s 
death became known. He had been a favorite with his comrades, and 
the commander had loved him as if he had been his own son. Three 
graves were dug and the bodies were buried; then arrangements were 
made to visit the rocks the next day. But they were attacked by a 
band of Redcoats, and only four of them escaped. They managed to 
Join the main army, and they reported the attack and its result. The 
affair of Richard and Bella had impressed the soldiers very much, 
and they gave the rocks and the defile the names that cling to them 
to this day. It was a mystery then, and it is an arcanum yet, and as 
the years pass into oblivion the chances are that it never will be 
solved. 

Years later a party of hunters discovered the ruins of a log hut 
in a depression on the Nescopeck Mountain. A thick growth of trees 
and bushes hid the ruius, which were discovered when the men trailed 
a bear to the spot. Several articles that they found showed that at 
least one man and one woman had made the hut their home, so they 
came to the conclusion that Bella and her father had lived there. 
They did not find a thing that would show who the occupants had 
been or why they had lived in that out-of-the-way place. 

There are many farms in the valley now, and a bridge spans the 
creek. Towns have been built and industries started near the rocks. 
Many boys from the towns go out to "The Devil’s Kitchen" and 
•pend hours there. One night several of the boys went over to the 
rocks and in a short time they came rushing back, pellmell. They 
•aid that they could see a blue flame all around the rocks, and that 
they could smell sulphur, while their bodies felt as if an electric cur- 
rent was running through them. The boys who stayed behind only 
laughed at their excited companions and told them that their imagi- 
t nations were working overtime. The others insisted that they were 
telling the truth. However, none of the scoffers would go over to the 
rooks to find out for themselves. 

The woodcutters axes and brush fires have done a great deal to 
mar the beauty of "Hell Kitohen Hollow" but the scene is very at- 
tractive to lovers of nature. 


(The end.) 



Substitute a bright smile for tbe frown, anb a loving 
heart for tbe one that is full of batreb, anb tbe worlb will 
he all aunsbine, happiness, peace, goodwill anb fellowship. 


6 

• * * * * KK* * * * * * * * ♦♦**** * • 

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* :• 


A Word Picture . 

- e By George Dreisbach . 

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****** * * * * * * * *v* ****** *°*°* 


I reposed on “The Pulpit Rock” and surveyed the display of na- 
ture’s grandeur in the valley below me. The panorama of Butler Val- 
ley is one of splendor, the magnificence of it being due to the Great 
Creator. Man, using modern working impliments, has transformed the 
scene into a veritable Eden, but all honor must go to the Omnipotent 
Power. To my discriminating eyes, as I scrutinized the landscape, the 
vastness of the Almighty is discernible. The impression forms in my 
mind that Elysian fields are not as soothing as the fascinating vision 
before me. Lofty motives; worth while ambitions; to serve the Great 
Master faithfully; the elimination of otiose moments; to banish indol- 
ence: to treat my fellow-creatures humanely, to show more esteem, 
love, honor, for them; to instil in my; heart kindly feelings and consid- 
erations for dumb animals; to force impure thoughts and desires from 
my mind —these, and many other worthy inclinations, took possession 
of me as I gazed on nature, queen of the macrocosm. My coign of van- 
tage gave mean uninterrupted view for at least ten miles west, and sir 
miles north to south along this distance. The farms in the valley extend 
to the foot of each mountain that runs parallel with the valley, the 
mountains being at least eight hundred feet high. Straightahead, ten 
miles away, is “Sugarloaf Mountain.” It is cone-shaped, the grain 
covered fields reaching halfway up its sides. 

My attention was attracted to a vapor that poured out of the sum- 
mit of the cone-shaped mountain. It spread over the valley, and was 
transparent. Thesubstance changedits colors every few seconds giving 
the scene beneath an enchanting appearance. I heard female voices, 
very low at first. They were singing and as it grew louder I became en- 
tranced for it was harmonious and effectual beyond the efforts of cele- 
brated composers. Then myriads of forms materialized in the distance 
and advanced slowly. What delightful, lovable nymphs they were! As 
they came forward the symphony increased in consonance, the into- 
nations were perfect. The song diminished gradually, until the last 
note died away, then each fairy creature commenced to play on the 
stringed instrument she carried, and simultaneously, with the last 
word of the song, began the prelude of a fantasia, and the music of it 
caused a Joyous feeling to take possession of me. Then four of the allur- 
ing creatures commenced to dance. With their beautiful hair flowing 
about their necks and shoulders, they done a series of bewildering ma- 
neuvers. I became so infused with admiration that I could not restrain 
myself from rushing forward to Join the adorable maidens — but I was 
stopped by an invisible barrier! In a few seconds the whole scene had 
vanished, and then something else engaged my attention and interest. 
Black clouds overhead, mumbling thunder, flashes of lightning, rain 
drops pattering on the ground, wind blowing through the trees, the 


r 

tenebroBity all around — were the inception of a storm. The result of 
the battle overhead was appalling. The wind increased, the thunder 
r >ared incessantly, and the lightning flashed almost continuously. 
Everything in the valley was visible, and I could see faces pressed 
against window panes, and startled eyes gazing at the storm. How 
the artillery above me roared and flashed 1 How the wind whistled 
through the trees! A streak of lightning left the clouds, dashed along 
the mountain side, shot across the valley in a zigzag fashion, then 
disappeared. An electric railway runs through the valley and the 
lightning must have followed the rails until it lost its force, or diverged 
among the rocks and trees. There seemed to be no abatement to the 
deluge, nor to the thunder and lightning, but even if I had the power 
to quell it all I would not have exercised it because I thought some- 
thing interesting might happen, and I was not disappointed. A circle 
of lire suddenly formed in the air. It was at least one hundred feet 
in diameter, one edge of it touching the rock. I looked down into the 
circle and I thought I was looking into the infernal regions. It ap- 

S eared to be a mass of flame, and the blackest kind of imps were 
oating aroundinitas a person floats in water! They rose higher and 
higher and the entire space was soon filled with the grinning demons. 
They did not see me, so I made a noise. All eyes turned toward me, 
then, uttering shrill cries, they started downward, and as their forms 
receded the circle contracted until it vanished. I was astonished 
at the change. It was cold and the leaves were off the trees and bushes. 
The thunder and lightning had ceased, and the wind had quit blow- 
ing; but tiie rain continued to fall, and it froze when it hit the trees, 
fences, rocks and earth. As the ice on thelimbs of the trees became 
heavier, the limbs bent down, some of them touching the ground. 
Then the rain stopped falling, and the sun came out. What a magnifi- 
cent picture it made! The ice glistened like diamonds. The trees were 
so stately, the rocks, fences and earth were resplendent in the dress of 
ice. But the sun’s rays soon penetrated the ice-dress, and a few mo- 
ments later the brilliant scene was gone. Then snow commenced to 
fall. At first the flakes fell straight down, then a breeze tossed the 
beautiful star-shaped particles around in a pleasing manner. The 
flakes got larger and fell in greater volume and the breeze grew into a 
strong wind. The white specks danced around in a wild sort of frenzy, 
sometimes in a great mass, then hundreds in a space, not one touching 
another, forming an indescribable picture of white beauty. The wind 
quit blowing and the snow ceased falling. The cone-shaped mountain 
presented an imposing spectacle in its coat of white, and the trees, 
fences and buildings were majestio in their cotton-like covering. 
Switzerland, with all its beauty, could not equal this scene. The farm- 
ers brought out their snow shovels and set to work; children, bundled 
Sn warm clothing, start for the nearest hill with their sleds, snowball- 
ing each other as they go along; a crowd of boys and girls with skates, 
shovels and brooms, head for the mill pond. Several youngsters build 
a snow man in a field. Then the sweet sound of sleighbells reached my 
ears, and I saw a horse and cutter dart down a road. A youth and his 
sweetheart are enjoying the drive. More sleighs appear and the 
Jingling bells make fine music. Darkness comes and in the northern 
sky bright ribbons of light are cast over the blue field. It is the aurora 
borealis! The fingers of light were brighter than I had ever seen them 
before. As I admired the changing colors, the lights slowly vanished, 
and daylight supplanted the darkness. The valley was hidden by a fog 
which touched the mountain tops on the north and south, and the 
rock on which I was standing. It resembled an ooean, the fog heaving 


up and down, like waves. The top of “Sugarloaf Mountain’* looked 
like an island. A huge steamer crossed the wavy surface, thick, black 
smoke pouring from the funnels. As the ship neared the south side, 
rain began to fall, and the fog and the vessel seemed to be washed 
away by the water. It is summer time; the leaves are on the trees and 
the rain pattering on the leaves is like sweet music. Thesun comes 
out, and as the rain stops a great half-circle of golden light forms in 
the sky. A rainbow! The brilliant semi-circle soon faded away. The 
raindrops, on theleaves, sparkled like gems. What a refreshing aroma 
was in the air! The fragrant scent of honeysuckles was in the atmos- 
phere. How wonderful it all was. The clusters of trees hereand there; 
apple and peach orchards; fields of daisies; the irregular fences of roots 
and stumps, stones, wooden rails and wire; the farm buildings here 
and there; the several groups of houses, indicating towns: the many 
wind- wheels; the sawmill, from which the buzzing saw could be heard 
as it tore its way through the logs; the school houses, around which 
children are at play : hand pumps and wells, from which pretty farmer 
girls are getting water; the electric railway, and thecars speeding by 
at intervals; the public and private roads, winding in and out between 
the houses, fields, fencesand trees, the roads running east, west, north 
and south, intersecting at various points; theseveral church steeples; 
in some of the fields horses, cows and sheep are grazing, and in other 
fields farmers are tilling the soil; along one of the roads is a farmer 
with a load of hay, on another road a farmer is taking a piece of 
machinery to a field; the automobiles dashing along the roads, 
leaving clouds of d ust behind, to thediscomf ort of the pedestrians who 
were journeying along the road; boys and girls comeout of the woods 
with baskets and pails full of berries; several men and boys fishing in 
the creek, and in an offset a bunch of youngstersareswimming. Dogs 
barking; pigs grunting; cow bells ringing; bees buzzing; geese, ducks, 
chickens and roosters adding their noises; the ringing of the black- 
emith’sanvil; thoshriekingof the brakes against the wheelsof heavily 
loaded wagons —all contributed to the great, wonderful scene. The 
little birds— God bless them — how their trilling songs filled my heart 
with gladness. Happiness is supreme in their kingdom as they warble 
their melodies. Squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, and other small ani- 
mals are in evidence. In front of some of thefarm houses are flower 
beds. Roses, pansies, sweet peas, and other fragrant flowers, gives 
each lawn a splendid appearance. Pretty winged butterflies flit from 
flower to flower. A gentle breeze is blowing and the rustling leaves are 
as soothing as sweet music. Near the top of the mountain, on the 
south, is the “Mountain Scenery Hotel” audit looks like a fort guard- 
ing the valley . The sun is getting lower, and the workersin the fields 
cease their activities; theswimmersreturn home; the fisher-men leave 
the creek, each one having a string of nice fish. Cows are milked and 
fed: pigs attended to; all the feathered animals cared for, and the eggs 
gathered ; horses bedded and fed. When the chores are all done the 
men take turns at washing themselves in the tin basins on the back 
porches. Then all partake of the meal that only a farmer’s wife knows 
how to prepare. As dusk comes on the barking dogs become quiet; 
the fowls cease their din; the birds still their songs; and everything is 
tranquil and peaceful. As theshades of crepuscular deepen the silence 
becomes intense for a few moments, then the lowing of the cattle 
could be heard; the tree toads and the crickets start their songs, while 
the frogs in the mill pond croak loudly. The vastness of the Great 
Creator of it all is plainly.evident, nothing can compare with the Mas- 
ter Mind that controls the universe. It causes me to reflect, to medi- 


9 

tate, and I fall into & reverie from which I am aroused by chiming 
church bells. They are calling the members of the congregation to 
come to the Chapel and worship the Saviour. Many farmers drive up 
and tether their horses to the well-worn hitching posts, then enter the 
house of God. It is the midweek meeting night. The moon slowly rises 
over the mountain top, and a mellow light is cast over the valley. My 
being was thrilled by the bewitching scene. If appreciation of beauti- 
ful things is moribund or dormantin any human heart, the influence 
exerted by this impressive spectacle would surely unfetter the shackles 
and release that organ which, awakened to the greatness of Heaven 
and of the Earth, would forever pulsate with reverence and esteem. 
As the orb of light in the sky rose higher, the objects in the valley be- 
came clearer, and I basked in the splendor of the enviornments. I will 
always cherish the reoollection of the picture as I saw it then. One part 
of the creek is wide, and several boats are chained to the rocks and 
trees on the bank. A young fellow and his girl stroll toward the 
creek, arm in arm. Now and then the couple pause and the boy would 
take advantage of a lover’s privilege and kiss the willing lips of his 
sweetheart. They arrived at the stream and the boy unfastened one of 
the boats and they got in it. The girl took the oars and as they glide 
over the water the youth plays on the mandolin he has with him. What 
ardor andintense love he injects into the music! He sings a love song 
and the maiden joins in the chorus. Their voices harmonized perfectly; 
the melody was sweet and joyous. The music and thesong died away 
and as they passed from sight around a turn in the creek they were 
locked in each other’s arms, their lips together in love’s tribute. In 
one part of the valley stands a large barn and many people, old and 

{ oung, enter it. I wished that I could see the interior, and even as 
expressed the desire, one side of the building faded away, revealing 
a crowd of farmers and their wives, sons and daughters. A "fiddler” 
tuned up his instrument, while several sets of dancers arranged them- 
selves in proper order to execute the figures of a square dance. The 
musician plays a quadrille and the dancers perform the maneuver* 
which are directed by a loud-voiced individual. After several lancer* 
and quadrilles had been enjoyed, three elderly couples danced some 
of the "old school” types of fancy dancing, and their excellent work 
was highly appreciated. Thensomeof thefarmer boys done gigs, reels, 
ologs and hornpipes; the village quartette entertained; and the town 
mimic amused with his clever impersonations. Then games were 
played, after which a lunch was served, then all departed for their 
homes. The moon slowly disappeared over the mountain top and 
grotesque shadows are cast in the valley. Automobile lights shine 
brightly through the darkness, and the headlight on one of the elec- 
tric cars is like a ball of fire, rolling down the mountain side. Here and 
there are dots of light gleaming from the windows of the farm houses. 
One after another the lights disappear as the families retire. Overhead, 
the sky is covered with twinkling stars and the scintillating lights 

R eminded me that I must be on my way, but before I left I gave a 
ingeringlook at the valley, and then I knew that nature and human 
beings were fast asleep. 


(The end.) 




10 


"I Got You." 


X 


A U^CENSORED version of wha T V> 
V happened at the welding 

OF A PAIR OF FOND HEARTS . 


❖ 
X 


By George Dreisbach. 


✓ 


A truthful reporter sent in the following account of a wedding: 

Judging by the solemn mien on the face of each nondescript per- 
son in the room the scribe felt that a dear friend had passed away. He 
soon found out different. The strain of the wedding march floated on 
the silent air, though the music of that popular composition seemed 
to have lost its accustomed cheerful tone. A domine was standing in 
one of the corners of the room. The intense silence was broken only 
by the graveyard-like air eminating from the organ. Eager, expectant 
looks were on the faces of the guests, especially on the face of a red- 
beaded girl who was masticating a wad of chewing gum. 

At last the bridal pair entered the room and a sigh of relief escaped 
all lips. The tension had been fearful. If they had not entered when 
they did, something would have burst. The music slowly decreased 
from boiler-factory proportions until it died away with a soft noise 
that was inaudible. The only sounds that could be heard for a mom- 
ent was the squeeking of the organ stool which apparently had not 
been oiled for a century, and the noise of the red-headed gumchewer. 

The solemnity of the occasion impressed all. Even the correspond- 
ent shed tears, which streamed down his cheeks like water from a hose. 
ISnough of the briny liquid was on hand to float a Titanic. After all 
bad demonstrated their feelings, the execution commenced. 

The groom was excited. No doudtit was due to the fact that this 
was his first offence. A wave of compassion spread over the assem- 
blage when his nervousness was noted. He tried to ensconce his hands, 
which appeared to be as large as barn doors, but his attempts only 
made them more conspicuous. He trembled so much that the guests 
thought he had a chill, so an oil stove was brought in and the room 
heated up. When being arranged in front of the parson he clung to the 
bridesmaid and insisted that she was the right one. They were soon 
placed in proper position in the center of the room, while the preach- 
er stayed in the corner. He couldn’t get any closer because the groom's 
I eet extended so far out in front. It was feared that the groom would 
collapse, but he managed to pull through. He made about ten mie- 
takes, one of them being that he put the wedding ring on hia own 
finger instead of the bride's. 

The bride was so different! She had perfect control over her 


emotions, and it was the private opinion of the information seeker 
that she had rehearsed the scene before a mirror every day — for a 
week, at least — prior to the event, though the fact that she had been 
led (?) to the alter four times may have had something to do with her 
perfect composure and self-possession. The expression on her face 
said, as plainly as words could have done: “I got him at last!” While 
her future partner stumbled through the annexation, she was cool 
and calm, and not a tremor marred her voice as she answered the 
questions. She was artistically arrayed in a gown of checkered ging- 
ham, which sells at 5 cents per yard. An enormous butterfly bow was 
displayed at her waist, and the gum chewer volunteered the informa- 
tion that it had been borrowed by the bride from a girl friend who 
works in one of the local mills. She wore a wig, and her face was paint- 
ed up in great style. In spite of her efforts to conceal her true age with 
cosmetics, the news-writer could see that she was about thirty-nine. 
She carried a nosegay of buttercups. A long, trailing, lacy kind of ma- 
terial, dangled from her hair, and was supposed to be a bridal-veil, 
but the chronicler noticed that one part of a pair of lace curtains was 
missing. 

The bridesmaid, who seemed to be blushing all the time, had a 
look on her physiognomy that almost spoke the words: *‘I wish I was 
the bride.” Her attire was created from the kind of material that is 
used to make crazy quilts with. She must have been confused when 
dressing herself because she had a white glove, slightly soiled, on one 
hand, and a tan glove, with two of the buttons missing, and the index 
finger torn, on the other hand. Dainty curls were clustered around her 
head and they were admired by the reporter until he discovered that 
they were of a different shade than the rest of her hair. She carried a 
bouquet of daisies. 

The groom wore a suit that the leading clothier sold to him for $8. 
The pants legs ended three inches below the knees. One of his socks 
was purple and the other one was yellow, and they looked as they had 
not been washed for a year at least. His shoes showed the state of 
mind he was in. One was a lace shoe and the other a button shoe. His 
necktie consisted mostly of large $reen spots and white stripes. He 
forgot to comb his bald head and it gave his ears the appearance of 
airship wings. Someone said the watch and chain he wore were bor- 
rowed from a friend of his. 

The groomsman was decked in great style. His suit was made of 
blue drilling and had been built at the local factory especially for the 
occasion. The press representative was assured, on reliable authority, 
that the groomsman had lent his best suit to the groom to wear on his 
honeynmon. He wore leather boots, parted his hair in the middle, had 
a brass ring, with a fake diamond in it, wore a collar that should have 
been in the laundry, and he proudly t sported a spurious watch chain. 
His posy was a sunflower about ten inches in diameter. 

After the sentence had been pronounced the gang went to the 
kitchen where sandwiches and water were served. After the guests’ 
hunger had been appeased, cigars, worth about 8 cents a dozen, 
were passed around. The reporter will utilize his for pen holders. 

The newlyweds got in a “jitney” and rattled off, while a crowd 
of men groaned dismally. The groom owed them money, and they 
had come to the house, hoping the groom would pay back what he 
owed. But they didn’t get a cent. 

When the couple return from their honeymoon they will com- 
mence their strife and fight their battles on Peace street. 




TPi 

awim 

■Romance Bnt> BMeenture flMnqlefc BlUtb Ufmber* 
ina Operations <$n flescopcck/lDountain. 

By George Dreisbach. 



Dave Harmon sat at a table in one of the rooms of his home in 
Wilkes-Barre. It was evening and his wife had gone out to visit a 
neighbor. His daughter Milly, who was twenty years old, was visit- 
ing her friend, Bessie Baylor, who lived in another part of the city, 
near the outskirts. “Old Dave,” as he was familiarly known, was 
making up a pay-roll. He had fifty men employed chopping down 
trees on the Nescopeck Mountain, a few miles east of Hughesville, 
Pennsylvania. Railroad ties and props for the coal mines were made 
from the trees. The men worked twelve hours a day, except Sunday, 
and they all boarded at the Spring Tavern which stood by the road 
leading from Wilkes-Barre to Hazleton. It was on this road that the 
stage coach operated between the two cities, and the Tavern was the 
stopping point where the driver changed horses when travelling in 
either direction. 

The men were paid once a month, and they had always been no- 
tified when to expect their pay. But the stage coach had been robbed 
twice, and the money for the men had been stolen each time, so as a 
precautionary measure he decided not to notify them when the mon- 
ey would be sent down. Only one man had done the robbing each 
time, and be wore a black mask. Old Dave had offered a reward of 
$500 for the arrest and conviction of the bandit, but no one had earned 
it so far. 

The time to pay the men had arrived. The lumberman had fin- 
ished the pay-roll and was gazing at the floor in deep study when his 
wife entered the room. 

“Anything worrying you, Dave?” she asked. 

“Well, I’m not exactly worried,” he replied. “I am wondering 
how to send the money down this time. The stage coach has not been 
stopped by the bandit for several months, but I’m not going to get 
careless. I don’t want to lose any more money. What do you suggest?” 

“When do you want the money taken down?” 

“Day after to-morrow when the stage leaves for Hazleton. I’d 
take it down myself but I must attend court that day. If you have a 
plan I’ll be pleased to hear it.” 

She pondered a few minutes then her face brightened up. “I have 
a plan!” she exclaimed, and she told him what it was. 

“That will be all right,” he said. “We will see about it to-morrow. 
I think she will be glad to do it.” 


13 

In the city lived a man named Adam Falls. He was about forty 
years old, and he was in love with Milly. He had bothered her several 
times, though she plainly showed him that she didn’t care for him. 
How he managed to get money to keep himself with, was a mystery, 
because he never worked. Mr. Harmon had offered him a job cutting 
timber, but he would not take it. 

Falls knew that Milly was visiting her chum, and he watched, ex- 
pecting to see her start for her home about seven o’clock. But the 
two girls went for a walk out in the country, so he followed them. 
The girls were so interested in their conversation that they did not 
see him. When they had walked a mile they sat down by the roadside 
to rest before returning to the house. Falls suddenly came and stood 
in front of them. They tried to get up, but he pushed them back. 

“Why do you always try to avoid me?” he asked. “Youknow I 
love you, Milly, and I want you to be my wife. I — ” she tried to get 
up, and he threw his arms around her and attempted to kiss her. 
Bessie jumped up and grabbed a stick and hit Falls with it. He tried 
to kick her but she kept far enough away from him to avoid his foot, 
yet near enough to use the stick on him. Just then a team was heard 
coming down the road and with a curse Falls disappeared among the 
bushes by the roadside. 

“We’ll pretend that nothing is wrong,” said Milly, so while the 
team was passing the girls picked berries from the bushes by the road- 
side, and when the team had passed they hurried back to Bessie’s 
home. “We won’t say anytning about it,” said Milly. “If he bothers 
me again I’ll tell father.” 

The next morning Milly went home, and while she and her par- 
ents were talking, a man worked his way to an open window and he 
heard every word that was said about the money. 

“Your father has to attend court to-morrow,” he heard Mrs. Har- 
mon say, “so we thought it would be a good idea if you would take 
the money down. No one will suspect you of having the money. What 
do you think of the plan?” 

“It’s fine!” exclaimed Milly. “Can Bessie go too? She will be 
company for me, and I know that she will enjoy the trip.” 

“Sure she can go,” responded her father. “I guess both of you will 
be glad when you get there,” and he chuckled as he noted his daugh- 
ter’s blushing face. 

“Father, you are mean,” she pouted, as she walked out of the 
room. She went over to Bessie’s home and told her about the trip. 

When the eavesdropper had heard enough of the conversation to 
know what the plans were concerning the money, he slipped away 
and went down the road. 

********************* 

Milly had been down to the timber tract three times and Bessie 
had been there once. Bill Jenkins was foreman of the woodcutters. He 
was about twenty-five years old, and he was a strong, powerful man. 
Milly and. Bill had fallen in love with each other the first time they 
met. Bessie had accompanied Milly the third time. They had a good 
meal at the Spring Tavern, then Mr. Harmon said : “Bill is out in the 
woods, and I have some work to do here, so you girls will have to get 
along by yourselves.” 

Thegirls started off through the timber, and they soon found the 
foreman, and Milly introduced her chum to him. It was interesting 
to watch the strong-armed men as they swung their sharp, gleaming 


axes m the air and brought them down with resounding whacks against* 
the trees. Then the falling trees, crashing through the limbs of those 
that were standing made a great racket. The choppers would attack 
the fallen trees and cut the limbs off them, then the drivers would 
snake the tree trunks out to an open space, where other choppers 
made railroad ties. The logs to be used for mine props were sent to 
the collieries where they were cut as needed. Chips and bark were 
scattered all around, and limbs were piled in heaps. Milly had seen it 
all before, so she paid more attention to Bill, but it was new to Bessie, 
bhe admired the powerful horses as they pulled the logs through the 
forest, the front ends of the logs plowing up the ground and tearing 
off the roots of bushes. 

The sound of a crosscut saw attracted her attention and she 
walked in the direction of the sound. She saw two men sawing a large 
oak tree. When they had sawed far enough into the trunk of the tree, 
they quit sawing and began to chop. Had she been familiar with the 
method of felling trees she w'ould have realized that the tree was being 
cut so as to fall where she was standing. The men knew that no one 
was working where the tree was to fall, so they were careless. Just 
before the tree started to fall a squirrel appeared and the girl’s atten- 
tion was diverted to the animal, so she did not know of her danger 
until she heard the snapping and cracking of limbs. She became so 
frightened that she could not move! A young fellow, who was passing 
with a horse, saw her peril, and he ran forward and grasped her arm. 

Bun, he shouted, and his voice aroused her and she ran, partly 
pulled by him. It was a narrow escape for them. Bill and Milly came 
running to the place, and the foreman started to give the men a lec- 
^ ure 4t ^hen he found out what had happened, but Bessie stopped him. 

“l am moreto blame than they are,” shesaid. “I had no business 
there. Please don’t scold them.” 

To please her he did not censure the men. The choppers returned 
to their work, and the young fellow who had done her such a good 
turn was walking toward his horse. She called him back. 

“I want to thank you for what you done for me,” she said. “I 
seemed to be paralyzed, I could not move or speak until you grabbed 
me, and I heard your voice. I’m glad you were near.” 

His name was James Fearson, and he was about twenty years 
old. She found herself admiring his nice blue eyes as he told her that 
he was proud to have been of service to her. He returned to his horse. 

two Kiris and the foreman took a stroll up the » 
road. They met Jim, and Bessie invited him to accompany them. An 
hour later they returned to the Tavern, and the next two hours were 
passed away by singing and playing. The next morning — Sunday — 
the four went on an outing. They packed two baskets with food, then 
they went down to the creek. There were rope swings there, and on 
the creek, which was dammed up at this point, were several boats. 
They had brought fishing-tackle with them, and at noon the young 
men caught several fish, which the girls prepared with the rest of the 
edibles. # After the meal was finished they rested an hour, then went 
boat riding. 

. Bill rowed his boat around a turn in the creek, and when out of 
sight of the other two, 4 he told Milly of his love for her. She answered 
in a way that made him very happy. A little later Jim managed to get 
his boat near Bill’s and when he and his companion saw the faces of 
the foreman and the lumberman’s daughter, they understood the 
situation. 

“No wonder we couldn’t get near you two for the last half-hoar,” 


15 

laughed Bessie. “Well, we will be good and leave you alone.** When 
they were out of hearing she said : “Bill seems to be a fine man.” 

“He is,” said Jim. “All the men like him, and when a foreman is 
liked by all the men working under him, it proves it.” 

Jim wanted to tell Bessie that he thought she was the sweetest 
girl he knew; that he was in love with her; but he had met her only 
yesterday, and he was afraid she would be offended. 

Bill and Milly, now that they understood each other, talked only 
as lovers talk; said the things that only lovers whisper to each other. 

When they came ashore the girls went off by themselves to have 
a chat. Bill said to Jim: “Milly has consented to become my wife.” 

On the way back to the Tavern Jim decided to speak up. He sud- 
denly blurted out his story; then he wondered if he should run. Bes- 
sie put him at ease by what she whispered to him. Four happy persona 
went to sleep in the Spring Tavern that night. 

That was how the girls met Bill and Jim. 

********************* 

Only an elderly woman was on the stage coach when the two girls 
boarded it the next morning. Each girl carried a small satchel. It was 
a pleasant morning, and the girls were very happy as they chatted 
with the other traveler, and the driver. 

About halfway between Wilkes-Barre and the Spring Tavern 
there is a very steep hill, and a very sharp curve at the foot of it. The 
driver always was very careful when decending this hill, and the reins 
and the brake required his strict attention. When the stage coach 
was slowly rounding the sharp curve, a masked man suddenly ran 
out from behind the bushes by the roadside. He had a revolver in 
each hand and he ordered the driver to stop the stage coach. The 
driver stopped the horses and locked the brake, but he had to keep a 
tight grip on the rein3. The bandit searched the girls and their satch- 
els, but he didn’t find anything of value. Then he searched the old 
lady and the driver, but he got only a few dollars. Hurriedly he 
searched the interior of the vehicle, but no money could be found. 

“Whereis the money?” he demanded, looking at Milly. 

“None of your business,” she retorted. 

He was about to say something, when he saw a feed bag hanging 
Underneath the coach. He unhooked the bag and looked into it. He 
could see nothing but oats, so he shook the bag and a package came 
to view. A cry of dismay came from Milly and the driver groaned. The 
highwayman had found the money! When the robber was sure that 
he had the money he ordered the driver to start out. When they 
had gone a short distance, Milly looked back and was just in time to 
see the masked man disappear in the bushes. She told the driver to 
stop. “I’m going to follow him,” she said. “Will you go along with 
me, or would you rather go on to the Tavern?” she asked Bessie. 

“I’m going with you,” replied her chum. 

“Better wait and let the Sheriff go after him,” advised the driver. 
He was a lifelong friend of Milly ’s father, and he had gladly consented 
to the scheme of hiding the money in the bag of oats. 

“If we wait for the Sheriff it may be too late. Something might 
happen that will give me a chance to trap him.” 

“Well, take my revolver, you might need it.” Milly took the 
weapon, then she and Bessie entered the woods to hunt for the thief. 

When the stage coach arrived at the Spring Tavern, and the rob- 
bery was reported, there was great excitement. It happened that Bill 


16 

was at the Tavern when the stage coach came in, and that Jim and 
two of the woodcutters were working near-by. He sent Jim and one 
of the choppers to the stable to get four horses saddled, and the other 
man was sent outintothe woods with orders to bring back the first 
six men he found. They were to hitch a team to a light lumber wagon 
and drive as rapidly as possible to the scene of the hold-up. 

Then the foreman went up to his room and got a revolver. When 
he came down he found the saddle-horses ready. Tne three men 
mounted the horses, and galloped off, and twenty minutes later the 
other men followed them. 

In the meanwhile the girls had wandered several miles, and they 
were getting tired. They were abolitto give up the search when 
Milly picked up a match stem. It was bright and clean, and evidently 
had been recently used. It gave them fresh courage and they decided 
to continue the hunt. Some rocks w r ere visible on an elevation about 
a mile from where they were. They headed for the rocks. 

When the highwayman entered the woods, after robbing the stage 
coach, he walked rapidly in the direction of the rocks. He took the 
mask off his face as he hurried along. The man was Adam Falls. 
Wnen he arrived at the rocks he sat down and looked over his plunder. 
He tossed the oats bag to one side, counted the money, then he lit his 
pipe. It was very warm and he got drowsy, and he fell asleep. He was 
awakened by voices and he got up just as the two girls appeared. 

“Milly, you here!” he exclaimed. 

“Adam Falls,” ejaculated the surprised girl. “What are you doing 
here?” she demanded. Just then she saw the feed bag. “My father's 
money; where is it?” she cried. 

Just then the girls heard their names called, and they gave an- 
swering calls. Uttering a curse, Falls started to leave the place. Milly 
had kept her revolver hidden, but now she pulled it out and pointed 
it at the man. “Stand still, or I’ll shoot you,” she said, sharply, then, 
as he stopped and turned around, she added; “Throw up your hands,’ * 
ftud before he knew it, his hands were in the air. 

The owner of the calling voice was getting closer. Bessie called 
again, and the trapped man’s face got pale. Fearing that he might 
get away through some trick, Milly told Bessie to get his revolvers. 
She stepped up to him, but before she could get his weapons he sud- 
denly sprang behind her. He held the girl and pointed his revolver at 
her. To Milly he said: “I’m master of the situation now. Drop that 
gun, or I’ll shoot your friend.” The dismayed girl obeyed him, and he 
chuckled. His success was short-lived. Bessie was a plucky girl. She 
realized that she would have to act quickly, so she suddenly raised her 
foot and brought it down with all her strength on his right instep. 
His revolver dropped from his hand as he sank to the ground. Bessie 
picked it up, and she also took the other one from his pocket. He was • 
too busy groaning, and nursing his foot, to object. 

A few minutes later Bill and Jim appeared, and Milly told them 
what had happened. They searched Falls and found the money in one 
of his pockets. “I guess you won’t do any more robbing for a while,’' 
remarked Bill, and Falls scowled, but did not answer. 

The foreman had arranged a signal that was to be used when he i 
wanted the men to go back to the road, where the man who had come ; 
with him and Jim, was guarding the horses. Bill shot into the air, and \ 
a few seconds later they heard answering shots. The bandit’s foot j 
pained him but by resting several times they managed to get back to j 
the road without it harming him any. All the men were there. The j 
foreman picked out three of them and told them to take Falls to i 


Wilkes-Barre and turn him over to Mr. Harmon. The three men and 
their prisoner got on the wagon and started on their journey. Then 
the girls were assisted to mount two of the horses, and Jim and Bill 
mounted the other two, then they galloped off in the direction of the 
Spring Tavern. The rest of the men followed on foot. 

The horses cantered along for a couple of miles, then their riders 
slowed them down to a walk. The young men complimented their 
sweethearts on their bravery, and the girls were pleased. Then they 
dismounted and strolled along, arm in arm. It was sundown when 
they reached the Tavern. 

About noon the next day Mr. Harmon and Mr. Baylor arrived at 
the Tavern. The girls expected to be reprimanded but this is what the 
lumberman said “If you girls had not followed him, the money might 
never have been recovered. Falls confessed to having committed the 
other two robberies, and we got most of the money back.” 

“It turned out all right in every way,” smiled Mr. Baylor, 

“It surely did, especially for the girls, because the reward will be 
divided equally between them,” then, as the girls uttered exclama- 
tions, Mr. Harmon winked at Bessie's father, and added: “The mon- 
ey will be handy to buy wedding finery with.” They laughed heartily 
as the blushing girls hastily retreated. 

That evening the young fellows talked the matter over with their 
sweethearts, then they hunted up the lumberman and his friend, and 
in five minutes a double wedding was planned for the following Sat- 
urday. When the landlord heard the news he had a conversation with 
the fathers, and what he said met with their approval. “Let’s find the 
youngsters, and ask them,” suggested Mr. Harmon. The happy 
couples agreed to the plan, then the lumberman announced that a 
double wedding would take place at the Spring Tavern on the follow- 
ing Saturday, and that it would be a holiday for the choppers. 

Anarch was built on the green and on Saturday morning it was 
trimmed with dogwood flowers, ferns, spruce and evergreens. Many 
men and women from Wilkes-Barre and Hasleton, and the towns be- 
tween, were there. At ten o’clock the minister united Bill and Milly, 
then Jim and Bessie, under the arch. 

Then began a celebration that never was forgotten by those who 
participated m it. Three “Fiddlers” took turns in furnishing music. 
A large platform had been erected, and as square dancing was the 
only kind they done, it suited the purpose. Refreshments were served 
continuously. It was late when the last guest left, so it was midnight 
when the parents of the newly married couples kissed them good-night. 

At last they were alone under the arch. The moon was shining 
brightly so the couples lingered a few minutes, then they entered the 
Tavern to retire, feeling that they had been truly favored by Eros, 
the god of love. 

(THE END.) 


Don't let a few defeats erase the 
smile from your face. Keep your heart busy pumping sun- 
shine through your system. Contentment should 
rule at all times because: GOD IS LOVE. 

Don't forget to 

&mi\t. Smtle - grnule. 


18 



One Saturday, many years ago, the Central Railroad of New Jer- 
sey operated an excursion from Upper Lehigh to New York City. In 
order to give their employees an opportunity to visit the city, the 
several coal companies in the vicinity suspended operations that day. 

East of the breaker are four sidings on which the loaded gondolas 
are run. The sidings are connected to one set of rails and this set is 
connected to the main line, being joined together by “The Safety 
Switch,” so named because it was always locked. The excursion train 
pulled out at five o’clock in the morning, and at eight o’clock an en- 
gine backed in and took atl the loaded gondolas, except one, from the 
sidings. The car needed some repairing, and a workman fixed the car 
before quitting time. 

A portion of the railroad, below “The Safety Switch,” needed re- 
pairing, and as soon as the coal train pulled ont, the construction crew 
got busy. On the gang was a man named Tony Barkus. He had been 
drinking, and he was in an ugly mood. During the progress of the 
work the foreman found it necessary to reprimand Tony for some 
mistake he made. He attacked the foreman, and the latter promptly 
knocked him down. He got up, grabbed an adze, and would have 
split the foreman’s head open with it but some of the men took it off 
him. Watson, the foreman, discharged Tony, and he walked away, 
vowing revenge. 

That evening, about eight o’clock, the postmaster and one of the 
clerks were standing in the doorway of the company store. Tony ap- 
peared at the corner of the building and listened. The postmaster 
eaid: “I heard that Watson discharged that troublesome navvy. It’s 
too bad that some men can’t leave liquor alone long enough so that 
they can do a decent day’s work.” 

“I think so too,” said the clerk. “By the way, Watson’s wife and 
daughter went on the excursion, didn’t they?” 

“Yes, my wife and Watson’s wife went together. Well, I am going 
to wait herein the office until I get a telephone message from White 
Haven when the train leaves there. I guess it will be one o’clock be- 
fore it gets here. Good night.” 

“Good night,” responded the clerk, and he walked down the road, 
while the postmaster went back to his desk, which was near an open 
window. Tony sat down under the window, outside. He had a scheme i 
and all he wanted to know was the time when the train left White 
Haven. It was a long wait. The telephone call came at twelve o’clock. 
Tony hurried down to the section tool shanty and forced open the door 
and took a pinch bar and a hammer from the building. Then he went 
down to “The Safety Switch” and broke thelock. Then he set the 


19 

switch, connecting the main road with the sidings. He went to the 
gondola and loosened the brakes, then he set the car in motion by 
using the pinch bar. The road is down grade, so the car was soon en- 
route to White Haven. Tony drank about a pint of whisky. 

Watson had been over to Freeland to a lodge meeting. He was 
chairman of the auditing committee, which met after the lodge ses- 
sion. It was late when he drove out of Freeland. When he got near 
the railroad crossing he heard a rumbling noise, and he stopped the 
horse and listened. The next instant the loaded gondola shot past. A 
cry of horror came from his lips. The excursion train would be coming 
up! He urged the horse into a gallop, and at the first place he knew 
there was a telephone, he stopped. A dozen men and boys were wait- 
ing for the train at the first little station below Upper Lehigh, and it 
was to this place that Watson telephoned first. The branch leading 
into the colliery at this place was connected the wrong way, so they 
couldn’t sidetrack the car. There was a heap of railroad ties by the 
road and the men started to pile them on the track. 

A sixteen-year-old boy, named Andy Boyer, ran up the track to- 
ward the coming car. About a thousand feet from the station the track 
runs through a cut of solid rock. The banks are as high as freight cars. 
In a couple of minutes Andy was on the north bank. A piece of rusty 
Iron, about an inch in diameter and three feet long, was lying on the 
ground. The boy picked it up. Just then he could bear the rumbling 
of the approaching carand he got ready to jump. Being through solid 
rock the sides of the cut were close to the track. The moon was shin- 
ing and about a hundred feet away he could see the car coming and 
whenitgot opposite himhe jumped. Thecar was loaded with buck- 
wheat. coal, and the impact drove him nearly to his hips in the coal. 
He pulled himself loose and then he grabbed the brake-wheel, tight- 
ening it as much as he could with his hands, then using the rusty bar. 

The few ties that the men had placed on the track were swept 
aside by thecar as it raced past. The men got a hand-car and followed 
the gondola. 

Andy pulled hard against the iron bar and soon the speed of the 
car diminished. Just then he heard the locomotive whistle at a cross- 
ing a mile below him. He tugged at the brake-wheel and the car slowed 
down, and Andy prayed that he would be able to stop it in time to 
run ahead and flag the train. But he could see the headlight and his 
heart almost stopped beating. The engineer was on the alert and he 
stopped the train just as the car hit the engine. The passengers were 
shaken up, but none of them were hurt. 

Andy had been thrown off the car when it hit the engine, but he 
waS'Only bruised a little. He told the conductor what he knew of the 
affair. Just then the men on the hand-car arrived, and Andy was com- 
plimented for his good work. The gondola was pushed in the branch, 
then the train went to Upper Lehigh. They telephoned to Watson 
and told him what had happened. 

In his report of the affair the conductor made special mention of 
Andy’s prompt action. A week later the boy received a letter from 
the company. He was commended for what he had done, and was 
given a check for $500. 

Tony was suspected and the county detective searched for him. 
The officer found him, drunk, in an old stable. When brought to trial 
he confessed and was given a long term in prison. 

(The end.) 


20 




mi m ® a 


Tresckow is a mining town in Carbon County, Pennsylvania. The 
beautiful Tresckow Falls is about two miles from the town. The vol- 
ume of water flowing over the precipice is not as great now as it was 
years ago when the Indians held undisputed sway over this section of 
the state. The adjacent coal mines drain much of the surface water, 
but enough of it dashes over the brink to make a pretty picture. 

Years ago, when no towns or cities were in the vicinity, a band of 
Indians camped near the falls, and they soon discovered the overflow. 
The chief’s only daughter, Sweet Voice by name, went to the place 
every day, and she would gaze at the descending water for hours. No 
doudt many fancies and dreams permeated her brain, influenced by 
the music of the water as it tumbled over the edge and hit the rocks 
below. Sweet Voice was very romantic, and she weaved many en- 
chanting scenes as the sun's rays reflected myriads of colors. 

Sweet Voice was pretty andher favored admirers were Oak Arm, so 
named because his strength was great; and Quick Foot, who was a 
swift runner. The two Indians were good friends, and often both of 
them would accompany the maiden to the falls. Sometimes they 
would take their bow s and arrows and go on long trips, and when they 
returned the girl would receive some trophy of the hunt, from each. If 
one gave her the pelt of a bear, the other gave a pair of antlers. Both 
tried hard to win her, but by honorable means only. She appreciated 
their efforts to please her, but it made it hard to choose between them. 

Thus the situation stood when an event occured that made it nec- 
essary for her to make a choice. The chief took sick, and for a few 
days his life was in danger. He recovered, and a new thought was in 
his mind. If he died, who would be the next ruler? He meditated the 
question. Sweet Voice must take a husband. He had great regard for 
Oak Arm and Quick Foot, but he could not decide between them, eo 
he sent for hia daughter. But she was undecided, so the two braves 
were called in, but they left the matter entirely to the girl to solve. 
No matter which one of them she decided to take, the other one 
would be 8ntified. 

One night — a night that was never forgotten by any member of 
the tribe — Sweet Voice asked Oak Arm and Quick Foot to accompany 
her to the falls. They were soonseated on a rock, close to the falls. 
This rock is level with the ground except on one side, where it makes a 
sheer decent of about fifty feet. A fine view of the falls can be had 
from this rock. The point where the water leaps over the edge is about 
ten feet lower than the level of this rock. The moon was shining and 
they had a clear view of the surroundings. They talked awhile, then 
became silent under the spell caused by the swish of the water be- 
tween the rocks above the falls, and the splash as it hit the rocks 
below. 


They were so wrapt up in the scene that they paid no attention to 
anything else. They were suddenly startled by the growl of a bear! 
In an instant they were on their feet, and the braves prepared to 
fight the animal with their hunting knives. The beast must have been 
ravenously hungry, for it attacked the men savagely. They tried hard 
to use their knives on the bear without getting too close to him, for 
they knew what the result would be if it got its claws on them. Sweet 
Voice watohed the fight with dilated eyes. Suddenly she uttered a cry 
of terror. Oak Arm, in his eagerness to inflict damage on bruin, had 
ventured too close, and the bear caught him with one of its claws. 
Quick Foot saw his companion’s danger, and he tantalized the brute, 
and diverted its attention, so the only wound Oak Arm received was 
along gash in the arm, from which the blood flowed freely. It was a 
mere trifle to hini, but it had the effect of showing the maiden that 
Oak Arm was her choice. Sne was going to call out words of encourage- 
ment to him, but fearing to hurt Quick Foot’s feelings, she did not 
utter them. Hopefully she watched them as they worked hard trying 
to gain an advantage over the animal. Suddenly Quick Fpot lunged 
forward and drove his knife to the hilt in the bear’s side. With a growl 
of pain the animal turned quickly, snapping the blade off! The brute 
was maddened to a fury, and with extraordinary agility for so clumsy 
an animal, it closed in on its antagonists, seized them in its huge arms, 
and carried them over the edge of the rock! The frightened girl ran 
all the way back to thecamp and told what had happened. The Indi- 
ans hurried to the spot. They found their comrades alive, but badly 
injured. The bear w'asdead. Oak Arm had a broken leg. Quick Foot 
was hurt internally, and when he knew that there was no nope for him 
he asked Sweet Voice if she had decided. She hesitated, but he insisted 
that she tell him. When he knew the truth he said to her: “Hove 
Sweet Voice. I go to the Happy Hunting Grounds with a cheerful 
heart, because I know you will be happy with Oak Arm, whom I love 
very much. Good-bye, Sweet Voice, I am — ” his voice ceased; Quick 
Foot had passed away. 

The pelt of the bear was given to Sweet Voice, and she often told 
the story about it to the children that came to her as the squaw of 
Oak Arm. 

(The end.) 


Tip yp$T SETTKip. 

©tors of Sugarloaf ADountafn. 

Bp 6cor$e Dreisbacb. 


One beautiful summer day, when the eastern central portion of 
Luzerne County was unsettled, a party of white folks were making 
preparations to camp on top of what is now known as “Sugarloaf 
Mountain.” They had travelled many miles and it seemed strange 
that they had not been molested by the Indians. They left a plain 
trail, made by the horses and wagons, but for some reason none of 
the bands of red men bothered them. 

As Frank Surgon, the leader of the party, stood on the highest 


22 

rock and viewed the scene in all directions and noted how quiet every- 
thing was; how devoid of life the enviorns seemed; he fancied that 
Indians were a myth. He had clashed with them on more than one 
occasion and he knew that appearances were deceptive. A cluster of 
trees may appear to be the only things at a certain place, yet a horde 
of the savages may be concealed behind them. 

The position they occupied waB all that could be desired. The 
cone-shaped mountain is about a mile high. The land in every direc- 
tion was covered with underbrush and trees. His daughter Ethel 
made her way to the rock where he was standing. 

''Well, father, how do things look to you from this point?” 

"Very good Ethel. By taking proper precautions the Indians can't 
surprise us up here.” 

"Do you think they will find us?” she asked, anxiously. 

"I am sure of it,” he answered, gravely, "and when they do come 
we must be well prepared.” 

Just then a young man from the camp came up to them and 
asked Mr. Surgon for instructions concerning something at the camp. 
His name was Martin Marks, and he and Ethel were in love with 
each other. The three talked a few minutes about the Indians. No 
matter how brave the early settlers were they always dreaded an at- 
tack by the savages. Mr. Surgon was taking extra pains in building 
the camp. He pointed to the valley east of them and said: "I believe 
that, in years to come, this entire valley will be under cultivation. If 
the Indians don't bother us we will soon have some of this land pro- 
ducing provisions for us. We’ll camp up here for a few months.” 

"We are lucky to have escaped them so far. I wish it could al- 
ways be this way,” said Martin. 

"So do I,” agreed Ethel. 

Her father shook his head. "They are not civilized yet. Although 
they are disappearing from this section of the state, enough of them 
remain to give the white people lots of trouble.” 

In a week’s time they were well fixed on the mountain top. Then 
they started to clear the land and the ring of the axes, and the noise of 
the saws, were sounds that spelled industry. 

One morning one of the sentinels brought a stranger into the 
camp. He told Mr. Surgon that he was a member of a band of white 
people that were coming toward the mountain. His friends were 
about two miles away, and they were being followed by a crowd of 
Indians who were five or six miles behind them. Mr. Surgon ordered 
the men to rush their fresh horses toward the train. Then he told the 
women folks to prepare lots of food. He wanted to give them a good 
welcome. 

Aided by the fresh horses, the train arrived on top of the mount- 
ain before the Indians arrived. While the newcomers enjoyed the 
food that had been prepared for them, Mr. Surgon and his men got 
ready to give the Indians a warm reception. When the settlers had 
built the camp they had chopped down the trees and dug out the 
stumps, and they had cut the brush too, within a radius of fifty feet 
of the camp. The men did not waste any ammunition, but fired only 
when they saw something to shoot at. Judging by the yells from the 
red men, some of them were hit. There were twice as many white men 
as there were savages, and though the latter knew it, they stubbornly 
kept up the unequal fight until late in the afternoon. Suddenly they 
ceased the attack and retreated. At first the settlers thougt it was a 
trick, but they soon found out that the Indians had really left. One 
badly wounded red man was found, and Mr. Surgon, who understood 


23 

the Indians language, questioned him. The wounded man said that 
this was the only band of Indians in that section and that they were 
leaving to go north. The white people would never be troubled again, 
he said. This was good news, if true. In order to be sure, Ethel’s father 
sent scouts out to follow the Indians. An hour later the red man died, 
and he was buried with the six that had been killed during the fight. 

The newcomers joined Mr. Surgon’s company and they all worked 
together. As soon as a place was cleared, and a house built, a family 
moved on it, and this plan was carried out until all the families had 
been supplied. Martin and Ethel got married, and started housekeep- 
ing on a fine little farm, adjoining Mr. Surgon's. 

To-day Butler Valley and Conyngham Valley are the pride of 
Luzerne County folks. Sugarloaf Mountain is a monument of beauty 
that is hard to duplicate. 


(The end.) 


THE FORD’S FEAT. 

By George Dreisbach. 

Ut was a beautiful moonlight nfgbt. Ibigb on tbe bosom of tbe sks 
floated tbc moon, shining unusually brilliant, lighting up tbe landscape 
and converting tbe environs into an eart bis Eden. ut was plcasingto 
behold, tbis scene along tbe bigbwas north of TKllbite ’foaven. B tford 
touring car, carrying two bandsoinc boss and two beautiful girls, was 
speeding along in all itsglors, seemingly proud of its ability to take tbe 
bills on “high.” Ube soung folks were deepls impressed b*3 nature’s 
wonderfu l work. Even tbe if ord, outclasses and outrivaled in daintiness 
©nls bs tbe sweet, winsome, cornels ladies it carried, seemed impressed, 
and jovousls spurted forth its exhausts to mingle with tbe music of tbe 
water that tumbled merrily under tbe bridges. TTbe wonderful jford, at* 
tired witb full equipment —tbe occupants were full of tbe ectass of 
love— evinced no desire to be re*tired during ans part of tbe journey, 
and as tired wheels always enjos good roadbeds, tbe car sped on witb 
un*tire*ing energy, spurning space witb sastire almost egotistical. 
Ube wheels were tired, but tbes were tireless in tbeir efforts to car* 
rs tbe car over tbe road. 

Suddenly tbe loud shrieking of a locomotive wbistle warned tbem 
that tbes were approaching a railroad crossing. 'Cbe train arrived at 
tbe crossing first, and following a train's usual custom when out in 
tbe country, it stopped, tbe alarmsdockslike ringing of tbe electric 
bell in tbe semaphore announcing that tbe dgbt of was was obstruct- 
ed. Didtbejford wait until tbe “iron borse" moved on? fihost assured* 
IS not. St simpls darted under one of tbe “all steel" coaches and 
continued on its merrs was toward WUlkessJBarre, 


Be cheerful, good-natured, and pleasant. Don't let some 
trifling annoyance spoil your whole day. Remem- 
ber that smiles are nicer to see than frowns. 


24 

t “THE PULPIT ROCK.” J 

t How IT GAINED ITS NAME. jt 

t By George Dreisbach. X 

j^4-^4-++i^l^i^4-^4^4^4-M4++-i-++i++4-++4-*-ft 


One summer day, during the Revolutionary War, a company of 
American soldiers arrived at the edge of the mountain overlooking 
what is now beautiful Butler Valley. They made their camp close to 
the huge boulder that stands on the mountain edge. When the camp 
arrangements had been made, the captain addressed the men. 

“Boys," he said, “this is the end of our journey for the present. 
This company is one of four that General W ashington has sent to this 
section. Two are north of us and the other one is south of us. When 
each company has travelled a certain number of miles they are to 
join us. So we will wait here for them." 

Captain Ives was about thirty years old. He was a good officer 
and his men liked him very much. The four companies had been 
sent out to get certain information. When the four companies joined 
forces Captain Ives was to take full charge. 

They rested two days, then scouting parties were sent out, and 
hunting parties were organized. Game was plentiful. 

A week passed by. It was very warm and the fires were always 
extinguished after the evening meal had been disposed of. One even- 
ing a bright light was noticed on the mountain south of them. They 
thought that the other company had arrived. The captain took one 
of the sergeants with him and they went over to investigate. They 
found a body of British soldiers, twice as large as their own. 

“I wonder what they are doing here?” whispered the sergeant. 

“I imagine they are here for the same purpose that we are," said 
the captain. “It’s strange they haven’t posted sentries. But look, 
isn’t that a man tied to that tree over there?" 

The sergeant looked in the direction indicated. “Yes, there is a 
man there. I wonder — but here comes a captain and a lieutenant. 
We better keep quiet.” 

The officers passed close by the bush behind which the two were 
hiding. They heard the lieutenant say : “Well, captain, what does 
the girl say now?” 

“She is still obstinate," was the growling reply. “I told her that 
if she didn’t consent to marry me I’d have that young cub shot to- 
morrow and—" but the officers had passed out of hearing distance. 

“What shall we do?” asked the sergeant. 

“We’ll release that young fellow first. He surely isn’t a friend of 
the British." 

They were soon behind the tree to which the prisoner was tied. 
They cut his bonds and told him to follow them, but he whispered: 
“I don’t know who you are, but please rescue Mabel first. She is in 
that tent near those large trees. If I go away from this tree the sold- 
iers will miss me, and spoil our chances of getting her." 

The captain realized the truth of the young fellow’s statement, 
80 he told his companion to stay there. He got up to the tent with- 
out being seen, and he soon had the girl’s attention. 

“Who is there?" she whispered. 


25 

**A friend,” he answered. “Is any one near the tent?’* 

“No. They have tied my hands and feet so I guess they think I 
don’t need watching.” 

He slit the canvass and entered the tent. He cut her bonds then 
told her to follow him. They were soon at the tree where the other 
two were waiting. They realized the necessity of getting away from 
the place in a hurry, so they started off, the soldiers in the lead, and 
they did not slacken their pace until they were a mile away from the 
British camp. While they walked along the girl told them that the 
Redcoats had come to her father’s farm, and had helped themselves 
to stock and provisions, but did not offer to pay for what they took. 
Her father objected, and was shot during the quarrel that followed. 
The captain had taken a fancy to her, but she repulsed him and then 
he ordered his men to take her along. She had no relatives. 

Then the young man said that he owned the adjoining farm and 
that he had gone over to see Mabel and her father during the day. He 
saw the grave, and not finding Mabel after a thorough search, be sus- 
pected what had happened, so he followed the soldiers. An indiscre- 
tion on his part had put him in the power of the Redcoats, and the 
captain had promptly taken advantage of it by telling Mabel he 
would order the young man shot as a spy. If she didn’t consent to 
marry the captain, her friend, Bob Sands, would suffer. 

“It’s a lucky thing for us that you came,” declared Bob. “That 
scoundrel might have done some damage. We thank you very much 
for what you have done for us.” 

The next morning one of the scouts came in from the north and 
reported that the two companies were coming to join them. Just then 
another scout reported that the Redcoats had discovered them, and 
that they were coming to attack them. Captain Ives sent the first 
scout back to inform their approaching friends of the situation, and 
to urge them to hurry. Then he began to preparefor the enemy. The 
British soldiers would have to climb the steep mountain side in order 
to attack them —unless they went around a couple of miles — so the 
captain knew his company had the best of the situation. He could see 
the Redcoats coming down the opposite mountainside. He went to 
the huge boulder, on top of which Bob and Mabel were sitting. The 
trunk of a tree, with the limbs cut off about a foot from the trunk, 
was standing against the rock. The captain climbed up and joined 
the couple. 

“Well, how are you folks this morning?” he asked. 

“Fine, captain,” replied Bob; then he asked: “Are the Redcoats 
going to attack us?” 

“I think that is their intention, but I think they will give it up. I 
know— ” just then he saw a pleasing sight on top of the opposite 
mountain. It was the American flag and boys in blue! And they were 
going after the Redcoats, too! Captain Ives hurried down from the 
lock and soon he was leading his men down the mountain side. But 
the British soldiers had fled westward through the valley ! They did 
Dot care to faoe the two companies. 

By the time Captain Ives and his forces got back up on the top 
of the mountain the other two companies were there. The officer de- 
cided to stav there another week, so that the newcomers would get a 
good rest, then they’d go back to the main army. 

“I’m glad there was no fight,” said Mabel, “because some of 
these brave boys might have been killed.” 

The day before they left Captain Ives got an idea. He hunted up 
Bob and Mabel and said: “I know you love each other and that you 


26 

intend to get married some time, so why not have the ceremony per- 
formed now, on top of that rock? It will give a romantic touch to 
this spot that will always be remembered. Talk it over and let me 
know what you think about it.” 

They did talk it over. Mabel knew that Bob was a good, reliable 
boy and that she could trust him, so she consented. The officers, the 
chaplain and the bridal pair climbed up on the rock and the marriage 
ceremony was performed. While the officers were congratulating the 
bride and groom, the soldiers cheered with great gusto. 

The next day they started back toward the main army. They 
stayed two nights and a day on Bob’s farm, then they resumed their 
journey toward the big army, while Bob and Mabel went to work 
to make one big farm out of what had been two before. 

The soldiers called the boulder ‘‘The Pulpit Rock” and it is still 
known by that name. A steel framework, to which wooden steps 
have been bolted, is the means of getting to the top now. A wagon 
road and a bicycle path have been built to it from the main road. 
The rock is one of nature’s great attractions. 

(The end.) 


“THE SLIDE," 

Story of the great “ ditch ” in the mount- 
ain side west of “ The Devil's K itchen." 

3Bg ©eorge ©refsbacb. 


The works of The Faultless Powder Company were situated on 
the south bank of the ‘‘Honey Hole” creek, about a mile and a half 
below ‘‘The Devil’s Kitchen.” The various buildings, fire pits, ect., 
were in the vicinity of the spot where the bridge now spans the creek, 
though when the Powder Company operated there a foot bridge and 
boats were the only means of crossing. It was an ideal location for 
such an enterprise; but there was one handicap: the lack of railroad 
facilities. This drawback might have been overcome by a branch 
from the Central Railroad of New Jersey, or the Lehigh Valley, from 
the main lines between Wilkes-Barre and White Haven. An incline 
railway might have been constructed to the top of the Upper Lehigh 
mountain and connection made with the Central. An extentionfrom 
the W. B. & H. electric railroad would have settled the matter nicely. 

But it's no use speculating on what might have been accomplished 
in these days of advancement. The company vacated the place many 
years ago, but the romance of the manager’s daughter is an interest- 
ing event to recall. 

Arthur Johnson was the manager of the company, and with his 
wife and daughter occupied a house on the opposite bank of the creek. 
Mr. Johnson was a good-natured man. The men liked him because 
he always overlooked unintentional mistakes. No man is free from 
making errors, and the manager’s view was that he made mistakes 


27 

himself, so he had no right to reprimand any one. If a blunder was 
made intentionally, or through carelessness, and ruined equipment 
or a delay resulted, it was a different matter. 

His daughter Helen was twenty years old. She often spent several 
hours a da v at the works, watching the men perform their various 
duties. All the men were married except two, and both of them were 
in love with Helen. One was Amos Turpin, about twenty-eight years 
old. He had charge of the powder houses and his duty was to keep 
account of the incoming and outgoing powder. Several times, on dark 
nights, he had arranged loose powder on the ground, in the shape of 
figures and letters, then she would light the powder and watch with 
delight as the flames showed the forms of the arranged letters and 
figures during the brief time that the powder lasted. Once he had 
arranged her name that way, and she was greatly pleased with the 
result. Amos was afraid to tell her of his love for her because he 
thought she didn’t care for him in that way. 

Paul Benson was twenty-two years old, and he was a good look- 
ing boy. He had applied for a position and Mr. Johnson had hired 
him and put him at work in the stables. His work was satisfactory 
eo the manager placed him in charge of the stables. He had a violent 
temper, but he had managed to keep the fact concealed from his 
fellow-workmen. He fell in love with Helen and he made up his mind 
to win her. He knew Amos loved the girl, but he didn’t let that bother 
him. Paul did not like it when Amos accompanied him and Helen on 
their strolls, and several hints from the youth caused the elder man 
to quit going out with them. 

Before Paul came Amos had always been her escort. Many times 
they had gone up to “The Devil’s Kitchen” and to “The Prospect 
Rock.” Several times, when the moon was shining brightly, they 
went up and sat on the rock. It is a wonderful scene, awe-inspiring 
in its way, and it gives one an idea of the greatness of the earth’s 
formation of rocks, trees, valleys, creeks, ect. Amos nearly declared 
his l9ve two or three times while under the spell of the grand scene. 
He sighed as he thought of another man being her escort. 

Helen soon noticed that be didn’t accompany her any more, and 
she asked him about it. “I’m getting too old to climb the hills, and 
to roam around in the woods,” he told her. “And three is one too 
many anyway,” he added, as he turned away to attend to some duty. 
Helen walked away with a thoughtful look on her face.^ Perhaps an 
inkling of the situation was beginning to form in her mind. 

That evening she wasn’t jolly as she usually was. She was very 
quiet, and thoughtful. Paul tried to amuse her, but she seemed to be 
meditating; she did not hear him half the time. 

“What’s the matter, Helen?” he asked. “You seem to be in an- 
other world.” 

“Just a bit thoughtful,” she replied. " Everything is so quiet; so 
wonderful. It makes me think of the great world. I wonder if it is aa 
peaceful in other places as it is here. It’s like Eden,” she finished, 
gazing dreamily at the water. Paul thought it was an opportune time 
to tell her of his love. She told him that she respected him but she did 
not love him. He got very angry. “I guess ^ou love some one else. I 
believe it’s Amos. He’s too old for — ” She interrupted him. “You’ve 
no right to bring any of my friends into this matter. I like you as a 
friend; we can’t be more than that to each other.” She walked to- 
ward the house, and he kept by her side. “Forgive me Helen; I 
should not have spoken of my love yet, but my heart urged me on.” 

“You must not go out with me any more,” she said, as she went 


28 

into the house. He bid her good night and walked rapidly awttjr. 

She entered the house and went to her room. After saying her 
prayers she got in bed. The bed was close to the window, and she 
could see the water rippling along in the moonlight. She could see the 
shadows of the trees in the water, and everything was so calm and 
alluring that her thoughts turned to Amos. She could see his smiling 
face out therein the water, then it was over among the trees, then it 
vanished. She fell asleep with a smile of contentment on her face. 

Several days passed. Amos thought Paul and Helen were getting 
along all right, so he kept in the background. Paul’s real nature was 
beginning to show itself. One day Amos caught him pounding one of 
the horses. The poor animal was almost ready to drop over. He tore 
the club from the youth’s hand and it was only by a strong effort that 
he kept himself from using it on the young fellow. 

“You ’ittlerat!” he exclaimed, angerly. “What do you mean? 
I’ve a notion to call Mr. Johnson.” 

“He was balky; I was only trying to break him of it,” muttered 
Paul. “I suppose you will tell Helen about it so you can get in her 
good graces,” he sneered. Uttering a cry of rage Amos made a grab 
for him, but he got out of there in a hurry, and he took care to keep 
away from Amos the rest of the day. 

Two of the men were passing the stable, and they stopped and 
watched Paul as he hurried away. “I wonder what ails young Ben- 
eon,” said one of the men. “He seems to be very grouchy of late.” 

“I notice that he and Helen don’t go out walking any more, per- 
haps that has something to do with it,” said the other, as they walked 
on. Amos had heard what they said. 

That evening he went over to the manager's house. Helen and 
her mother weresewing, and Mr. Johnson was reading. They chatted 
awhile, then the young folks went for a walk on the bank of the creek. 
The frogs were croaking, and some of them were sending forth that 
peculiar, trilling noise that is so familiar to those who live near the 
water. It happened that Paul was taking a walk down that way and 
he saw the girl and her companion. When they sat down on the trunk 
of a tree, he worked his way up close enough to hear what they said. 

Helen knew that she loved Amos and it made her shy. She was 
more reserved than he had ever known her to be. 

“Helen, have I offended you?” he asked. 

“Why no, Amos; what makes you ask such a question?’* 

“Well, you have changed; you seem to be a different girl. Have 
I hurt you in some way?” 

“No Amos, you have not offended or hurt me, but you have made 
me feel as if I had offended you. You have not walked once with me 
during the past two weeks.” 

“Why, I thought you’d rather be with Paul. Oh Helen, I love 

r ou. Do you love me?” She cuddled right up to him and said; “Yes, 
do love you Amos; I guess I always did. I’m so happy.” 

He put his arms around her and they kissed for the first time. 

“I thought sure you wanted Paul because he is nearer your age 
and — " She put her hand over his mouth. “Paul is a nice boy,” she 
said, “but you are the one I want. Now kiss me again.” He wasn’t 
•low in obeying that command. 

Paul sneaked away from the place. A Jealous rage took possession 
of him and he went to his room and brooded over the affair. 

An hour later the couple went back to the house. Mr. and Mrs. 
Johnson were well pleased when the couple told them of their love and 
Amos asked permission to marry Helen. 


29 

About a mile southwest of the company’s buildings, near the top 
of the mountain, was a huge boulder, partly buried in the ground. 
The men had often predicted that some time the rock would work 
loose and slide down the mountain side. Every rain storm washed 
more dirt from around the rock, and it was only a question of time 
until it would be loose enough to slip. 

The day after Amos and Helen had plighted their troth, Mr. 
Johnson took sick. His wife gave him some of the remedies she always 
had on hand, and his condition improved. About eight o’clock that 
night he got worse, and Amos decided to drive over to a farm, about 
three miles away, and get a herb doctress known as '‘Granny Jones.” 
It had started to thunder and lightning, and rain had commenced to 
fall. Amos sent a man over to the stable to tell Paul, who occupied a 
room over the carriage shed, to get a horse and buggy ready. Then 
he went over to his boarding house and put on his gum coat, hat and 
boots. He also took his revolver. In ten minutes he was back again, 
and just then the man reported that Paul was obeying his order. The 
man went back to his own home. While fixing his undercoat Amos 
had put his revolver on the table, and in his hurry to get away he 
forgot it. Helen saw it, and she knew she’d have to hustle to get it to 
him before he drove off. She hurriedly donned her gum hat, coat and 
boots, grabbed a lantern, put the weapon under her coat, and ran out 
of the house. 

A broken trace had delayed Amos, so she got to the carriage shed 
before he left. He was gl ad to get the revolver. He kissed her, then 
turned to get in the buggy. The jealous feeling in Paul’s heart was 
stirred up when he saw Amos kiss Helen. A daring scheme entered 
his head, and he picked up a club and brought it down with all his 
strength on hisrival’s head. Before the dazed girl could do anything 
Paul lifted her into the buggy, got in beside her, and gave the horse 
a cut with the whip. The startled animal dashed from under the shed 
and he gave it several more cuts. The horse galloped down the road 
that led to the main road. The rain was falling in torrents, and the 
thunder was terrible. 

“Paul Benson, let me get out,” cried Helen. 

*‘I guess not,” he answered, as he lashed the horse. The mad- 
dened animal raced along at a dangerous pace. 

“But my father is very sick. We must get Granny,” she sobbed. 

“Hang your father,” he growled. “You belong to me now. I’ll 
never let you go back.” 

None of the inhabitants of that section ever forgot that night. 
The wind blew with such force that many trees were uprooted. The 
thunder made a terrifying racket as it reverberated through the val- 
ley. Paul continued to ply the whip, though the horse was beginning 
to get tired. Suddenly there was a blinding flash of lightning, followed 
by the sound of splitting timber, and the crash of a falling tree. The 
horse swerved to one side and the shafts broke off. Helen felt herself 
going head first out of the buggy. Her shoulder struck the wheel and 
it turned her body so that she landed on her feet. Her shoulder was 
bruised, but otherwise she was not hurt. A flash of lightning showed 
Paul lying by the buggy, his face covered with blood. Helen’s first 
impulse was to run. Then her natural courage showed itself and she 
kneeled by his side and felt his heart. To her dismay there was no sign 
of life there. What should she do? Her father was very sick, and need- 
ed help; her lover was injured, perhaps dead; and this form on the 
ground should be cared for. She uttered a prayer beseeching guidance 
and something seemed to tell her to go on and get the doctress. Just 


80 

then she heard a great racket up on the mountain side. She realised 
what it meant. The great boulder had been loosened by the rain, and' 
was sliding down the mountain side! She took hold of Paul's body 
and tried to pull it out of the path of the rock, but it was too heavy 
for her, so she was forced to flee for her own safety. The frightened 
horse had dashed around the fallen tree and galloped up the road, so 
Helen had to walk. She never forgot the trip from there to the main 
road. The gum coat and boots, and the soft mud, made it impossible 
for her to make fast time. The rain pelted against her body, and 
gu3tsof wind would almost throw her off her feet. The sheet lightning 
would blind her for a few seconds after each flash, and the fallen trees, 
blown down by the violent wind, or broken off by lightning strokes, 
impeded her progress. She kept bravely on. Suddenly there was a 
terrific noise, the crash of a falling tree, and the next flash of lightning 
showed the unconscious girl pinned to the ground by one of the limbs 
of the tree. 

Mrs. Johnson became alarmed when Helen failed to return. She 
notified her neighbor, and he went over to the stable. He found Amos 
and with the aid of some powerful liniment he aroused Helen’s lover. 
Although he was weak, from the effects of the blow, he insisted on 
going after Paul and Helen. The man got a horse ready and assisted 
Amos to mount, and when the latter rode off he hurried back to the 
house and informed Mrs. Johnson of what had happened. Then he 
got several of the men and they were soon following Amos. 

Paul was not dead, but only stunned. The rain hitting his face 
aroused him. He knew that he did not dare go back, after what he 
had done, so he thought he would go out to the main road. He hoped 
Helen had gone that way. and that he would catch up to her. Just 
then something happened. None of the rocks had hit Paul while he 
laid on the ground. He was lucky then, but it was different now. He 
was going to start out when a large tree crashed down in front of him. 
With a cry of alarm he jumped back, only to get in the way of a large 
rock that was tumbling down the mountain side. His right leg was 
broken by the rock. 

The storm gradually abated, and by the time Amos reached the 
spot where Paul was, the rain had ceased falling, and the wind had 
quit blowing. The thunder and lighning had ceased too. When he 
arrived at the fallen trees he dismounted, and just then he was star- 
tled by a groan. He soon found Paul. Amos wondered what he should 
do. He did not want to leave the youth there, but he was very anxious 
about Helen. The other men could not be very far behind him, he 
thought, so decided to make things as comfortable as he could for the 
young fellow. When the other men arrived Amos had a fire going — 
he utilised the buggy seat to build it — and Paul was lying on the cush- 
ion which Amos had arranged on the ground. Paul’s leg was broken 
below the knee and it didn’t take these strong men long to pull it into 

E lace. After it was carefully bandaged Amos took two of the men with 
im while the rest of the men carried Paul back to the stable. 

Helen had come to and had tried hard to release herself. She was 
not hurt, except a few cuts and scratches, but she was fast in such a 
way that she couldn't get loose. Amos and his two companions found 
her and released her. Helen’s lover took her back to the house, and the 
two men went and got Granny. Under her treatment the manager 
fully recovered. When Paul’s leg healed, he left the place, glad to get 
off so easy. There is a “ditch”, several hundred feet long, in the 
mountain side. The rook had broken into pieces when near the bottom. 

(The end.) 


51 



Roy Bates rushed into the house and called out: “Is supper ready, 
mother?” 

Mrs. Bates looked at her son and smiled. “Yes, Roy, I’ll have the 
things on the table in a minute.” Roy ate rapidly; beseemed to be 
in a great hurry. 

“I’m going to take Mildred Force to the theatre to-night,” he 
Baid, in answer to his mother’s question regarding his hurry. “She’s a 
fine girl and I would like to bring her over some Sunday afternoon. 
I’m sure you’ll like her. She just started to work in the office last 
week.” 

“I will be pleased to meet her,” said Mrs. Bates. 

Mrs.Bates was a widow, and Roy was her only support. He 
earned a good salary but he spent as much of it as he couhl on him- 
self. He always got the bestof everything. His suits were of the best, 
and his hats, shoes, ect., were of the expensive kind. His mother’s 
clothes were shabby, her hat long ago had gone out of style. When she 
went to an amusement place it was one of the cheap houses; Roy 
always patronized the high priced theatres. Nearly all the money she 
got from Roy went to pay the household expenses. She was sixty 
years old, and she was beginning to show the strain caused by the 
hardships of former years; her hair was gray, her steps were slower, 
her hands and face wrinkled. Roy, who was twenty-six, didn’t notice 
these things. He came and went with a rush. As long as his meals 
were always ready; all his home wants attended to, he was satisfied. 
It seemed that he had eyes only for pretty girls, ears only to hear the 
call of amusements, tongue only to say complimentary things to the 
girls, his lips served no other purpose than to kiss the beauties he 
spent so much of his time with, and his legs worked overtime in get- 
ting him to their homes. While his eyes could single out the youthful 
forms of the girls, they failed to see his mother’s fast declining person. 
Her first five children had passed to the Great Beyond. Then Roy 
came and she feared that he would be taken, but he was spared. Roy 
was fifteen years old when his father died, and since then Mrs. Bates 
had lavished all the love on her son that her heart was capable of 
stimulating. At the age of twenty-one he graduated, and she had been 
proud of him, and the diploma he won. She had made many sacrifices 
to help him along. Roy’s wants, while going through college, were 
many, and it was only by strict economy and self-sacrifice that she 
managed to make the insurance money, that she had received when 
her husband died, last until he was through. He got a position in the 
office of a manufacturing concern. His work was satisfactory, and his 
•alary had been increased several times. But his spending capacity 
had increased too, so there was very little spending money left for his 
mother after all the bills were paid at the end of each week. She knew 


32 

that she was getting feeble, that her eyes were getting weak. It re- 
quired more effort to do the household duties, but she would not 
complain. Roy’s ears were quick to catch the songs and musical 
laughter of his young girl friends, but they failed to note the differ- 
ence in his mother’s songs and laughter from what they were a year 
ago. It didn’t occur to him that his mother was just as sweet as any 
of the perfumed girls he took to theatres and dinners. He loved his 
mother, of course, but he never took time to tell her of it; and he 
always kissed her in a perfunctory sort of way. It didn’t occur to him 
that sweet words and kisses would brighten his mother’s life, would 
make her tasks easier. His suits were always neatly pressed, and his 
collars, shirts, and other apparel, were always in good condition. 

Roy finished his supper, then he hurried up to his room and 
changed his suit. Before going out be looked in the kitchen where his 
mother was washing the dishes. “Good-bye mother,” he said and 
without waiting to hear her answer he went out. Mrs. Bates finished 
the dishes, then spent an hour or so mending clothes. When she had 
finished the sewing she donned her shabby dress and quaint, old* 
fashioned bonnet, and slowly wended her way to the nearest moving 
picture house. 

The route of trolley car on which Roy and Mildred were riding 
toward the theatre was on the street next to the one on which he ana 
his mother lived. To get to the moving picture house Mrs. Bates had 
to walk along the street on which the trolley car operated. 

Mildred was a pretty girl and Roy was proud to be her escort. 
She seemed to take great delight in comparing the hats, dresses, and 

S eneral appearances, of the people they passed. Roy was vexed, but 
e did not say anything to her. He believed in being well dressed but 
he never criticized others for not being as well dressed as he was. 

Suddenly she pointed to a figure on the sidewalk. “Look at that 
woman, ’ ’ she remarked. “That dress and that hat — I wonder what 
ancient date they represent.” 

Rov looked in the direction indicated, and his face paled. The 
shabbily dressed woman was his mother! How his heart throbbed 
as he felt his love for her wake up. His affection had been slumbering 
and it needed something like this to arouse it. He forced down the 
impulse to tell his companion that the woman she laughed at, the 
dress and hat she ridiculed, were part of his own home* His regard 
for the vain girl had diminished a great deal. 

One part of the play was very interesting to Roy. Two of the 
characters had a discussion about clothes. One of them contended 
that the clothes a person wears shows the mental state of that person. 
“Look at the great men of to-day. None of them go around in shabby 
attire. They clothe themselves in a style befitting their mental and 
social positions. Down in the slums you will find the contrast. The 
slovenly appearanceof the habitues of the slums is plain evidence of 
their mental inefficiency.” 

“That is probably true in some cases,” said the other, “but his- 
tory tells us that many of our great men never dressed in a showy 
manner. And we must not forget that some of our presidents were 
poor boys, and that their clothes were not of the best. Many a man 
and woman, clad almost in rags, that we pass on the street, may be 
just as much a lady or gentleman as the most expensively dressed 
people we see.” 

“Look at it this way,” said the first speaker. “In a room are two 
girls. # One has beautiful, expensive clothes on, and the other one is 
shabbily clad. You have your choice of taking either one into a ball- 


33 

room and dance with her. Which one will you choose?’* 

“I think that is farfetched. If a person does not dress well because 
he or she can’t afford it, or for any other reason, they would not, I’m 
cure, want to enter a place where well-dressed people are. A person’s 
deportment, not clothes, is the best evidence to go by. I think many 
poorly dressed men and women are victims of sacrifice." 

After the show was over he took her to a first-class restaurant 
end they stayed there an hour, listening to the music while they ate 
end chatted. Roy and his friend overheard two of the waiters talking 
about two men who were just going out. The waiter who had served 
them had not received tips from them, and he was angry about it. 
It happened that Roy and Mildred got in the same car as these two 
men, and they sat in the seat behind them. They could hear the con- 
versation of the men. 

"I know that the waiter was expecting a tip," said one of the men, 
•'but I simply won’t give any one a tip. I’ll tell you why. I have a 
daughter at home, and she is a good girl, and is a great help to me. 
My meals are always on time, and my home is properly cared for. My 
wife died several years ago. Somehow, I never seemed to have anv 
money for my girl. I was too generous outside of my home. She took 
Bick, and I almost lost her, and it was then that I realized how dear 
ehe was to me. It seems strange that we never give such things any 
attention until some contingency brings them forcibly to one’s mind. 
She always stood well in her studies at school, and I know now that 
through my negligence she never was as well supplied with spending 
money as the other girls were. She could not get dresses as nice as 
those worn by her girl chums. She never complained about it, and 
though I realize that clothes don’t count, I have been sorry ever since 
that I didn’t provide better for her that way. I am doing my best 
now to make amends, and she is not spoiled by it. Instead of giving 
and spending money uselessly, I put it to better use. We are very 
happy now." 

"I understand," said the other man, "because I, too, learned a 
lesson I’ll never forget. My wife is a fine cook; I think her dinners 
can’t be beaten by any chef in the city. She attends to my inner and 
outer comfort day after day, but until lately I didn’t seem to appre- 
ciate it. W’henlgo to a restaurant once or twice a week 1 get that 
email amount of service,. yet my wife is always working for me. An 
Incident occured some time ago and it brought these facts to my at- 
tention, and I was astonished when I found out how negligent I had 
been. But it’s different now. I devote more attention to her, and take 
better care of her financially. I do my best to make life a pleasure for 
her, and I know that we are happier now than we’ve ever been." 

Roy did not intend to listen, but the subject was interesting to 
him. After the men got off the car he said: ‘‘I’ve learned more to- 
night than I’ve learned since I left school." 

"In what way?" asked Mildred. 

"Well, the play gave me some new ideas, and the conversation we 
Just heard was an inspiration also." 

"You don’t mean to say that you are going to let the words of 
men you do not know, and words of actors on the stage, influence 
you?" 

"Yes, I am," he replied firmly. "I can see now where I have done 
Wrong in many things." 

"What are you going to do, dress in rags?" she sneered. 

"No, I’m not going to do that. But I’m going to see that the best 
mother any fellow ever had gets better treatment. I’ll be frank with 


34 

you Mildred. That woman you laughed at was my mother. I won't 
take you out any more.” 

“I don’t care; 1 can get other escorts,” she said. 

“Yes, you can,” he acknowleged, ‘‘because you are pretty and 
you dress nice. That’s what drew me to you, but my eyes are open 
now. There are other things to consider to which I paid no attention 
before.” 

From then, until they arrived at her home, they were silent. He 
was genuinely glad when he bid her good night. On the way back 
home he bought a box of a certain kind of candy which he knew his 
mother was fond of. He felt ashamed when he thought of how long 
a time it was since he took candy home to her. 

She was seated in her rocking-chair, reading the Bible when he 
arrived. ‘‘How was the show Roy?” she asked. 

‘‘Fine, mother. The play was instructive as well as entertaining. 
But look what I have for you,” and he held up the box of candy. The 
look of joy on her face showed him how much she appreciated the 
candy. He kissed her, then went up stairs to his room, more contented 
than he had been in a long time. 

The next morning he told his mother all that had happened the 
night before. ‘‘Mother,” he said, ‘‘I’m going to help you every morn- 
ing before I go to the office, so tell me what to do.” Tne many little 
things he could do showed him how much walking and exertion he 
could save his mother, and it brought vividly to his mind the thought 
that he had been paying too much attention to his own pleasure and 
enjoyment, and not enough to the comfort of his mother. Several 
weeks passed by and Roy done all he could to make things easier 
for his mother. Once every week ho took her to the theatre. On Sun- 
day mornings he accompanied her to church, instead of sleeping as 
had been his wont. Roy felt that it was a pleasure to live these days ; 
he took more interest in his work; his tasks were never irksome any- 
more. 

One day a notice was posted on the bulletin board in the office 
where Roy worked. The notice stated that the business of the firm 
had increased to such an extent that the silent partners were going to 
take an active partin the affairs of the company, and that there 
would be several promotions, to be announced on Saturday. When 
that day came Roy was called into the manager’s office and informed 
that he was to be the private secretary of Mr, Swan, one of the part- 
ners. The following Monday morning Roy went to Mr. Swan’s office 
snd he was surprised to see one of the men he and Mildred had heard 
talking in the trolley car that night. Mr. Swan noticed Roy’s surprise 
end asked him about it, and the young man frankly told him all that 
bad happened that night. Mr. Swan said : ‘‘Roy, God has given everv 
one of us a heart and a set of brains. If we train our brains to think 
right, and our hearts to beat right, we can feel sure that success will 
crown our efforts. I neglected to make life worth living for my dar- 
ling girl, but when death nearly claimed her, it opened my eyes. If 
' we all go through life, being kind, helpful and considerate, we will 
Always be happy.” Mr. Swan went to one of the doors that led into 
one of the other offices and knocked on it. “Tell Mr. Trainor I want 
to see him,” he said to the boy who came to the door. The man who 
entered was the one who had been with Mr. Swan on the trolley car 
that night. The latter informed Mr. Trainor of what Roy had told 
bim ana he said to the youth: “I am glad our few words helped to 
show you the right way to go. No one ever regrets doing right, and 
being fair and square. It sometimes takes a severe jolt to bring us to 


, , , 35 

a realization of our duty, but to true-hearted men and women the 
severeness of the jolt is more than compensated for by the good that 
results from it.” 

*Tve found that to be true sir,” said Roy. 

A few days later Bertha Swan came into the office. Roy was intro- 
duced to her. She was a delightful girl, and Roy was well pleased 
when her father told him to show her through the works. She was 
greatly interested and asked many questions. He was sorry when she 
had to go. He took particular notice that she wasn’t wearing an en- 
gagement ring. After she left Mr. Swan remarked: “She’s a fine girl, 
and I love her dearly. I suppose some one will take her from me some 
day.” He gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling for a few moments, then 
started to dictate letters. 

Roy and Bertha met often. Sometimes at the office, sometimes at 
her father’s home. The result was inevitable. They fell in love, be- 
came engaged, and six months later they were married. 

(The end.) 



Part i. 

Upper Lehigh, in the state of Pennsylvania, is a hustling village 
containing about one thousand inhabitants. It is a coal mining town 
and the people are congenial. Strangers have no difficulty in getting 
acquainted. 

James Burton was the head blacksmith at the mines, and his son 
Fred was a locomotive engineer. Two daughters, Beatrice, twenty 
years old, and Alice, twenty-two years old, were the other members 
of the family. Beatrice was blind. On her sixteenth birthday Mrs. 
Burton had taken her out for a carriage ride. The horse ran away and 
the carriage upset. The blacksmith’s wife was killed, and Beatrice 
lost the sight of both eyes. A specialist was summoned from Philadel- 
phia and he made a thorough examination. His decision was known 
only to Dr. Stanwell, the local physician, and Mr. Burton. Beatrice 
was a sweet, lovable girl. If her affliction ever worried her she did not 
show it. She possessed a generous heart and a sunny disposition. No 
I one ever saw a frown on her face. 

Alice was entirely different. She had a cranky, ill-tempered dis- 
position. When things went wrong she vented her spite on her blind 
sister. Fred and his father knew that Alice was mean, but they worked 


36 

all day, and Beatrice would not complain, bo they didn’t know how 
mean she really was. It seemed as if Alice possessed a heart of stone,.) 
for she never felt a qualm over her treatment of the blind girl, who' 
tried hard to please her. Beatrice could do most of the household 
duties and many times she had done more than her share so that 
Alice could get away early when she wanted to go to a show or to a 
party , Alice did not appreciate the goodness of her sister. She seemed 
to thiuk it was the proper thing, and instead of showing some affec- 
tion, she spoke harsh words, and several times she had slapped her. 

Fred was twenty-three years old, and a finer young fellow could 
could not be found in the town. He idolized his blind sister, and had 
he known how cruel Alice was there would have been trouble. Hia 
blind sister loved him dearly, but she would not tell him about Alice. 
Fred often made some sacrifice in order to contribute to Alice's pleas- 
ure, but she didn’t value his goodness either. 

Calvin Coles was a New York City boy. He worked on the sur- 
veying corps. He had been working at the colliery about six months 
now. No one knew anything about him. He met Alice at a danoe one- 
night and they fell in love with each other. 

Elva Owens, an eighteen-year-old girl, was Beatrice’s chum. The- 1 
two girls often took long walks through the woods north of the town. 
They were more like sisters than friends. 

John Wilkes was nineteen years old, and he was Elva’s “steady.” 
At the works lie was Fred’s “patcher.” His duty was to couple and 
uncouple the cars, set the switches, and perform other work connected 
with the position. 

Jenny Fields, Elva’s cousin, was a heartless flirt. She was a 
pretty girl and. of course, she had many admirers. One of her whims 
was to make a date with one of boys, then go out with some one else. 
Once she had played that trick on Fred. He never asked her to go 
out with him again, and the proud beauty was miffed about it. # She 
tried to get Calvin Coles interested in her, but all her flirting didn’t 
do any good. Calvin would not leave Alice. So Jenny fancied she had 
cause to bear a grudge against two membersof the Burton family. 

Jenny had arranged a surprise party for Elva, and a few days 
before the day of the party Fred overheard a conversation between 
Elva’s cousin and a girl friend. He did not intend to play eavesdrop- 
per but he was in such a position that he couldn’t get away without 
being seen. He was glad he heard what they said. 

“Will the Burtons be there?’’ Jenny’s friend asked. 

# “Yes, they’ll be there. I invited Mr. Coles and I had to invite 
Alice, of course. I had to ask Beatrice because she and Elva are 
friends. Fred won’t leave her go alone, so he’ll be there. I wish they 
wouldn’t come, for he is an awkward lummox, and the blind one will 
be in the way most of the time, I suppose.’’ 

“She can sing, and can play a violin, I believe,” said the other girl. 

“She can screech a little, and can saw on a fiddle,” growled Jenny. 
They walked on and Fred murmured to himself: “Beatrice is blind 
but I wouldn’t give her little finger for a dozen of such girls. I don't 
care what they say about me, but they must let her alone. So she can 
‘acreech and saw' can she? We will see.” 

The night of the party arrived. Alice and Calvin had arranged to 
meet in Freeland, and she was up in her room, dressing. Beatrice was 
washing the dishes. Fred went into the kitchen. 

“I’d help you, Sweetie” — a pet name he had given her — “but I 
must have a new pair of shoes, so I will hurry up to the store and get 
them before it closes.” He had only reached the door when Alice came 


37 

down stairs. “Fred, " she said, “I saw a pair of pretty slippers in A 
store over in Freeland, and I would like to buy them. Will you give 
me four dollars?’* She went to the mirror and arranged her hat. He 
looked at his shoes, then at the slippers she had on. They were better 
than his shoes. She became impatient. “Well, are you going to give 
me the money?” she demanded. He gave her the amount, and after 
she left he took off his coat. Beatrice walked over to him. “Fred, did 
you give her all the money you had?” she asked. 

“Yes, that was all the spare cash I had just now,” he answered. 
He got the shoe brush and rubbed and polished his shoes until they 
looked pretty good. 

It was eight o’clock when Fred and Beatrice arrived at Elva’s, 
and all the other guests were there. Alice was proudly displaying her 
new slippers. _ The blind girl and her brother were soon called on to 
play, and a minute later they were playing a beautiful instrumental 
selection. In one part there was a series of dreamy, dulcet notes, and 
when they came to that part the second time, Beatrice sang. The 
words were of her own composition; even Fred did not know about 
it. He paused a moment in surprise, then he continued to play the 
accompaniment, but he kept his eyes on his sister’s face. She was an 
elocutionist, and she modulated her voice to correspond with the 
sentiment of the song she was singing. A thrill of joy went through 
Fred’s being as he listened, and the applause she received gratified 
him very much. He glanced at Jenny and he saw that she didn’t look 
very happy. The way Beatrice “screeched and sawed” was a great 
shock to her. Alice was amazed at the ability of her sister, and a 
bitter feeling took possession of her, but she didn’t say anything 
mean just then. 

Elva threw her arms around her blind friend and kissed her. “Oh, 
Beatrice, that w T as grand! Repeat it for us, won’t you?” she begged, 
and to please her friend she played and sang again. 

Then they started to play games. During the evening J enny made 
a remark to her friend, and it was heard by Beatrice and her brother, 
as Jenny intended it to be. “Look at Fred Burton’s shoes,” she said, 
with a sneer. “It’s a wonder he wouldn’t get new ones. I suppose his 
snip of a sister will think she’s the whole thing now.” Fred was not 
a quarrelsome boy, but he would have resented that remark about 
his sister. A gentle pressure on his arm made him pause. If he said 
anything then about the saracastic remark it would prove embar- 
rassing to Beatrice. He looked at her and saw a sweet smile on her 
lips and a gentle, pleasing expression on her face. The look of annoy- 
ance left his face, and he caught her hand and squeezed it lovingly. 
The blind girl done her share in the games and music, showing no 
ill-will toward Jenny at any time, this being more evidence of her 
wonderful disposition. One must have a heart of gold in order to try 
to be friendly with some one whose dislike is evident. Fred appreci- 
ated his sister’s efforts, and he felt that she set a good example for 
all to emulate. But Jenny couldn’t see anything noble in Beatrice's 
endeavors to be friendly. Once a Freeland boy had been turned down 
by her and he was very bitter against her. In the engine shed at noon 
the next day several of the boys were discussing the matter. Fred 
said to him: “Why not let her alone Sam? My idea of those things is 
to not say a word about them, because it causes unpleasant reports 
to be circulated about a girl. You wouldn’t want to hear your sisters 
criticized like that, would you?” 

"I’d expect them to be criticized if they done fool things like 
that,” growled Sam. “Jenny ought to know that such actions are not a 


38 

credit to her. She has played that game on many good fellows, and' 
you know it. Why do you take her part when she has treated you 
the — ” but Fred walked out of the shed. These, and many other 
thoughts about Jenny came to his mind as he took part in the games. 

On the way home from the party Fred told Beatrice about Jenny, 
and she asked: “But why does she dislike me. I never harmed her.’* 

“I guess it's because you are in the Burton family,” answered 
her brother. When they reached the house he noticed that her eyes 
and cheeks were wet from tears. He kissed her and said: “Don’t let 
it worry you, Sweetie; it’s not worth being distressed about.” 

“I was thinking of the shoes, Fred. It was mean of Jenny to sneer 
at you.” 

“I had forgotten all about the shoes,” he smiled. “Alice had her 
slippers and was proud of them, so I am satisfied. Well, I am going 
to bed.” He kissed her, then went up to his room. She sat down in a 
rocking-chair, and fifteen minutes later Alice came in. 

“Well,” she sneered, “I hope you are satisfied. You and your 
brother forced yourselves in and showed off!” 

“Alice, please don’t say that. Fred is very good to you.” 

“He thinks of no one but you. I wish father would send you to a 
home; you are only in the way here!” 

“Oh, Alice, how can you say such things? “sobbed Beatrice. 

“Don’t be a baby,” said Alice. She shook her sister severely, 
then muttered: “I don't know what our precious brother sees in you 
to make so much fuss over!” Having vented some of her spite she 
•at down. 

Beatrice went over and dropped on her knees by her sister’s 
chair, and pleaded: “Oh, Alice, I beg your pardon if I have done any- 
thing to offend you or make you feel sad. I speak for Fred too. Please 
forgive us if we have hurt you. I love you, Alice, as sisters should love 
each other. Please kiss me and tell me that you forgive me.” Tears 
trickled down her cheeks as she made the appeal. But the plea did 
touch Alice’s heart; it seemed to have the opposite effect for she 
became enraged and slapped Beatrice in the face! The blind girl was 
always ready to go more than halfway in her efforts to avert trouble 
and ill-feeling. Her face was smarting from the sting of the slap as 
she rose to her feet, then leaned down and kissed Alice! “I forgive 
you, dear sister,” she whispered, then she went up to her room and 
for the first time in many months she cried herself to sleep. 

“She must be afraid of me,” thought Alice, and by that thought 
she showed how little she understood her sister. Not having a gener- 
ous, loving disposition, she could not understand the promptings of a 
nature such as Beatrice possessed, so she placed a wrong meaning on 
the blind girl’s action. 

Part a. 


One night Mr. Burton asked Fred to take a walk with him, and 
to Fred’s surprise his father took him to Dr. Stanwell’s office. The 
doctor handed him a letter and told him to read it. Fred read the letter. 


Dr. Stanwell, 

Upper Lehigh, Pa. 
Dear Doctor* 

day. 


Phila. Pa., June 7, 1916. 

Send Miss Burton to me on Wednes- 


E. R. Mason. 


39 

Fred bonded the letter back and looked at the doctor inquiringly*. 
“What does it mean?” he asked, and the physician replied: “When 
the specialist examined Beatrice he told us that he could not do any- 
thing then. He was sure her sight could be restored, but we would 
have to wait about four years. He gave me instructions as to the ex- 
aminations and treatment she should have every month. I have re- 
ported her condition frequently to the specialist; this letter explains 
the rest.”. 

Fred was dazed for a moment. “Beatrice has a chance to regain 
her sight! Oh, how happy that makes me feel!” he exclaimed. 

“Yes, Fred,” said his father. “The specialist is confident that an 
operation will be successful. It will cost us two hundred dollars. We 
will mortgage our property in Hazleton to get the money to — ” 

“Father, I have enough money in the bank to pay all the expenses, 
we willuse that,” interrupted Fred. 

“That’s the spirit young man,” approved the doctor. “Our plan 
Is for you to take her to Philadelphia on Wednesday morning. The 
specialist will meet you at the station, and will take you and her to the 
'hospital, and she will be operated on in the afternoon. We won’t say 
a word about it to the folks here until you come back.” 

“You don’t know how happy this makes me feel,” said Fred. “I 
love my sister dearly, and my heart cried out against her affliction. 
It seemed unjust. Both of you know what a wonderful girl she is, but 
you do not know her as I know her. She is an angel on earth.” When 
Fred left the office his eyes were full of tears of joy. 

Wnen he arrived at the bouse he found Beatrice playing the vio- 
lin. “Hello Sweetie,” he called, “come and take a walk with me un- 
less you would rather have a nicer escort.” She laughed and said that 
he suited her. They walked out to the “Prospect Hock” a mile west 
of the town. Many lovers had spent happy hours on this rock. 

“Father seemed unusually happy to-night,” remarked Beatrice. 
“I think he feels contented now that the last payment has been made 
on that property in Hazleton.” 

“He is pleased for another reason. I have good news for you/* 

“Is it about yourself, Fred? Are you going to get married?” 

“It’s about you, Sweetie.” Then he told her all about it, and 
when he finished she burst into tears. They were the only two on the 
rock at the time, so he put his arm around her and held her close to 
him until the tears ceased, and the smile came to her face again. “Oh, 
Fred, forgive me for crying, but I couldn’t help it. I’m glad I have a 
chance to see again. I have often felt sad because I could not see the 
things that you and Elva would describe to me, though I always hid 
my feelings. I am always in the way when we go any where — ” 

Fred put his hand over her mouth. “That will do,” he interrupt- 
ed. “I find more pleasure escorting you to places than I do in any- 
thing else.” 

“You are the best brother in the world,” she said, “and you really 
love your blind sister?” 

“There isn’t words enough in the dictionary for me to use to tell 
you how much I love you!” he answered. 

“What a splendid lover you would be! I often wondered why you 
never fell in love with one of the girls; you waste all your time and 
affection on me. But no! no! I can not spare you because you and 
daddy are all I have. I fear I am selfish but I don’t know what I’d 
do without you.” 

Fred squeezed her hands. Somehow, he always felt that his inter- 
est in her was more than brotherly. He had spent many hours in the 


40 

Bociety of other girls, yet he always felt happier when he was with his 
own sister. It seemed strange that his heart beat faster when she ca- 
ressed him than it did when some other girl kissed him. _ 

“I hope the operation will be successful,’' said Beatrice. “If Ire- 
gain my sight I will try to repay you for the many kind things you 
have done for me." 

“You have done more for me than you realize. When that acci- 
dent happened I wa3 eighteen years old and a wilder boy could not 
be found in the town. Spending money went for drink and dice. I went 
with evil companions, and mother’s heart was breaking because of 
my conduct. I was nearly drunk when they came for me, and I hurried 
home only to see mother’s dead body, and you all bandaged up, and 
they told me that you were blind. God alone knows what I suffered 
then. After mother was buried father and I had a long talk, and I 
vowed I’d never touch liquor again. It was hard to break away at first. 
But from then on you seemed to exert a strange influence over me. 
At first I would go to you when I waa tempted to go out with my for- 
mer evil companions, and the desire would leave me. After a time my 
will power was sufficient. The only money I spent on anything other 
than my own pleasure was for the violin I bought for you. You never 
knew what kind of a boy I was, because we kept it from you.” 

“I am very glad you are not that kind of a boy now Fred. But 
can father spare the money for the operation?” 

“I have enough in the bank. We will use that.” 

“Oh Fred! I don’t know how to thank you. You are the best boy 
in the world.” She kissed him, then they walked back to the house, 
talking about the coming trip. 

Part 3. 

Fred and Beatrice left on the first train on Wednesday morning. 
Fred left the rumor circulate among their friends that he was taking 
his blind sister to the city for a treat. Alice had not been told about 
the benefit Beatrice was expected to derive from trip, but improbably 
would not have made any difference to her if she had been informed. 
She had to do all the work around the house that day, and it gave her 
a ohance to see how much work her sister done in a day. # Instead of 
making her feel glad that Beatrice would have a rest it made her 
more bitter than ever. When Coles called that evening she told him 
all about it. 

“Alice,” he said, “Hove you and I want you to be my wife. You 
can see thatyou are not wanted here. Let’s get married and go to New 
York City. Will you Alice? You are of age, so you don’t need your 
father’s consent.” She agreed to his plans, and on Friday they were 
married in Hazleton. Alice sent her father a letter, then they boarded 
a train for the city. When Mr. Burton got her letter he murmured: “I 
hope they get along all right. I am glad her mother isn’t here now.” 
He had also received a letter, postmarked in New York City, and the 
contents pleased him very much. Just then a clerk from the office 
came in and gave him a telegram. When the clerk went out Mr. Bur- 
ton read the message. “Thank God, Beatrice can see!” he exclaimed. 
“She has lots of good luck,” he thought, as he glanced at the letter he 
had received from New York. 

Two weeks later Dr. Stanwell, Mr. Burton, John Wilkes and Elva 
Owens drove over to the railroad station in Hazleton to meet Fred 
and Beatrice. John and Elva had not been told that Fred’s sister 
could see, so they were astonished when they saw her run right up to 


41 

Mr. Burton and hug and kiss him. Then she hugged and kissed the 
others, even the doctor, who turned and cranked his automobile, in 
order to hide the tears that were in his eyes. He loved her as much as 
he loved his own daughters. 

Elva was so excited that she could hardly stand still. “Oh, dear,” 
she cried, “I don’t know what I am doing or saying! To think that 
you can see!” and she kissed Beatrice several times. 

The good news about Beatrice soon spread over the town, and 
for several hours she was kept busy responding to congratulations. 
Even Jenny Fields came in and spoke cheering words. That night 
Fred’s father told him and Beatrice that he had something important 
to tell them. They drew their chairs up close to him. 

“Years ago 1 was a blacksmith in a shop in New York City. One 
evening a stranger came to my house. He had a baby in his arms. He 
told us that his wife had died two weeks before, and that he was look- 
ing for a family that would take care of his baby daughter. At first I 
refused to take the baby, but he told me that he would have to put 
her in a home, if I did not take her. My wife took a fancy to the child 
and begged me to keep it. The man furnished proof that she was a 
legitimate child, so I consented to take her. Her father told us that 
he was going out west, and that we would hear from him when he 
succeeded in making a fortune. He had lots of confidence in his ability 
to make good. He gave me the name of a lawyer and told me to write 
to him two or three times a year and inform him how the girl was 
getting along. I resigned my position and came here. We liked this 

E lace, and the people, so we settled down here. I suppose both of you 
ave guessed that Beatrice was that baby. When that accident 
occured, I became almost crazed from grief. I had intended to let the 
lawyer know about Beatrice, but when the specialist said she had a 
chance to regain her sight, I decided to wait. I’m glad I did wait, be- 
cause things have turned out all right. I got a letter from the lawyer 
and he informed me that Beatrice’s father had returned, and that he 
would call to-morrow for his daughter.” His voice broke into a sob as 
he realized how hard the parting would be. 

She threw her arms around Mr. Burton and hugged and kissed 
him. “I’ll never leave you! You have been so good and kind to me all 
these years, and I love you dearly.” She glanced shyly at Fred. He 
held out his arms and in an instant she was in his loving embrace, and 
their lips were together in their first kiss of sweetheart love. They now 
understood why they found so much pleasure in each other’s society. 
Their hearts had long ago found out what their minds had not. Mr. 
Burton slipped Quietly out of the room. 

Part 4. 

The next morning Mr. Burton went to the station and met Mr. 
James, and took him to the house. The instant that the newcomer 
saw the girl he exclaimed: “My daughter,” and they greeted each 
other affectionately. “You look just like your mother did when she 
was your age,” he said. Beatrice and Fred prepared dinner while the 
two men smoked and talked. After dinner Fred said to their new 
friend: “Mr. James, until last night I thought Beatrice was my sister. 
We have talked it over and we know that our love is stronger and 
deeper than brotherly and sisterly affection.” Beatrice came to Fred’s 
side and he took her hand in his. Rosy blushes covered her face, but 
she looked bravely at her father and Mr. Burton. Fred continued: 
“I have asked her to be my wife, and she has consented, subject to 
your approval. I ask you sir, for your consent to our marriage.” 


42 

Mr. James grasped Fred’s hand. “I’ve known you only a few 
hours, my boy,” he said, “but I like you very much. I can truthfully 
say that I am pleased to give my consent.” Beatrice hugged and 
kissed her father and Fred, then she went over to Mr. Burton. “I’ll 
be your daughter after all,” she whispered, as she nestled in his arms. 

On the following Tuesday night Fred and Beatrice were married, 
and on Wednesday morning all of them left for New York City. Mr. 
James bought a manufacturing concern, and in a few weeks the three 
men were busy running the place. Everything went along smoothly 
and they were very happy. 

One day, about two months difter they had come to the city to 
live, a letter, addressed to Mr. Burton, was delivered by the mail car- 
rier. The original postmark was a New York City stamp. The letter 
had been sent to Upper Lehigh, and the postmaster there had sent it 
to Fred’s father. Mr. Burton recognized Alice’s handwriting, and he 
eagerly read the letter. She stated that they were getting along nicely, 
but that she got very homesick at times. It happened that he was 
alone when the letter came, so he decided to go and see her. In an 
hour’s time he reached the place. He greeted her affectionately, then 
he told her the news, and she was astonished when he told her that 
they were living in the city. She begged him to wait and meet Calvin, 
and have supper with them, and he consented. 

When Calvin saw Alice’s father his face got pale, but Mr. Burton 
put him at his ease by the cordial greeting he gave him. After the 
meal was over they went to Mr. Burton’s home. 

Fred and Beatrice gave their relatives a genuine welcome, and 
then Mr. James was introduced to the newcomers. While the men 
chatted and smoked the girls went into another room. 

“Oh, Alice, I am so glad you are well and happy,” said Beatrice, 
her faoe radiant with smiles; “now wecan be together all the time,” 
she added, giving Alice a loving hug. 

“Sister, I don’t know what to say,” said Alice. “I always was 
rude and unkind to you, and I never had any reasons to be. Will you 
ever forgive me?” and Beatrice answered: “I loved you then and I 
1 ove you now. There is nothing to forgive.” 

Two weeks later Calvin was given a responsible position with the 
firm, and he and Alice moved into the house next to her father’s. 

Thus we leave our friends, happy in the sunshine of love; content- 
ed is the affection that comes from the joy of being with loved ones. 

(The end.) 

m THE LITTLE SLATE PICKER. 

SB By George Dreisbach. S3 


One morning, in the month of April, 1898, in the kitchen of one of 
the houses in the coal mining town of Diamondville, a man and a boy 
vrere donning their “working clothes,” while a woman and a girl were 
busy getting breakfast ready, and “packing the dinner cans.” The 
man was Frank Small, a coal miner, and the boy was his son John. 
This was to be John’s first day as a slate picker, and he was “togging” 





himself in the usual outfit worn by the breaker boys. It consisted of a 
pair of thick soled, hobnailed shoes, blue drilling overalls and blouse, 
and a cap, with a leather attachment on it, to hold a miner lamp. 
John was twelve years old, and his sister Ella was fourteen. The lat- 
ter was busy helping her mother. 

The district school winter session had ended, and most of the 
boys in the village were going to work as slate pickers in the coal 
breaker over at thefoot of the mountain. John had often wished he 
could work in that breaker, and now his ambition was to be a reality. 

A slate picker, in those days, received three cents an hour. The 
prices of food, and other necessaries of life, were not very high in 
those days, but, as a general rule, many families found themselves 
Just about “square” at the end of each month. Sothe small amount 
the slate pickers received was some help in settling the bills each 
month. A small town, about two miles away, had an opera house ? to 
which, now and then, a show came. But amateur theatricals, fairs, 
festivals, and such like, were the principle modes of enjoyment. 

Mr. Small had to go to work earlier than John, so before he left he 
said to his son: ‘‘My boy, this will be a new experience for you, so 
whatever you are told to do, try your best to do it right. If you make 
a mistake, don't be afraid or ashamed to acknowledge it. Don’t let 
anyone force you to do wrong. If anyone tries, to bully you, defend 
and protect yourself ; don’t let anyone get the impression that you 
are a weakling. Don’t be afraid you’ll do too much work; in my opin- 
ion the men and boys who fear they’ll do too much are the ones 
who never do their full share of work. Don’t be a talebearer. If you 
hear a discreditablestory about anyone, don’tlet it get any further 
than you. I have always tried to be a good father to you, and you 
have a fine mother and sister, so any time you want advice, or you 
want to confide in us, don’t hesitate to speak.” Mr. Small filled his 
pipe with tobacco; then he added: ‘‘I’ve heard that Jack Sparks, one 
of the slate picker foremen, is a hard man to work for. He is very 
brutal and any boy, who incurs his hatred, is treated mean. If you 
are placed in discharge, doy our utmost to retain his good will, but 
do not take any undeserved punishment from him. When any of my 
children deserve punishment, I’ll doit myself; I don’t want some 
brute doing it. Well, I must go; good luck,” and Mr. Small departed. 

Ah, if every father had talked to his son like that before he went 
to work on the coal breaker! Many men can testify to the cruel, in- 
human treatment they received, when they were slate pickers, froma 
domineering boss, punishment that, in most cases, was not merited. 
Swollen hands, caused by being hit with a piece of rawhide, aching 
bodies, caused by kicks and blows, and faces smarting from being hit 
by the hand of the boss, were only afewof the indignities some of the 
boys endured. Why? Because most fathers were indifferent. Had 
every father taken the same stand that Mr. Small took, many a day 
of agony and misery would have been spared some of the boys. The 
boys done their best toseperateas much slate from the coal as could 
be reasonably expected of them. But those ten hour shifts were very 
tiresome, and on hot, stuffy days the boys could not be blamed when 
they eased u p a little bit. Several of the boys who had been beaten by 
Sparks, carried their aching bodies home and reported the affair, only 
toget thrashings, their fathers saying that they must have deserved 
the beatings at work! They did not even investigate to find out the 
facts in the case. After that none of the boys would tell their parents 
of any trouble at work, so Sparks had things his own way. 

It seemed that some men were picked out to be foremen because 


of their brutalness, of their ability to scare the boys and keep them in 
a constant state of fear and subjection, under the impression that the 
boys done more work. There were some good foremen, of course, but 
they were in the minority. The cursing, arrogant kind were most in 
evidence. 

Harry Worth, twelve years old, was John’s chum. He, too, was 

t oing to work on the breaker for the first time. His father had been 
illed in the mines a few months before. Through a beneficial fund, 
maintained by the company and the employees, Mrs. Worth had re- 
ceived some money, but after all the funeral expenses had been paid, 
there was very little of the money left. So Harry and an older brother 
were her support. John lived across the street from his chum, so in a 
few minutes the two boys were on their way to the breaker. About 
twenty boys reported to the outside foreman, who took them up on 
the breaker and put them to work. 

John and Harry were placed in charge of Sparks, the former was 
put at one of the stove coal chutes and the latter at one of the chest- 
nut chutes. The novelty of it all was pleasing to John. The continu- 
al whirl of the machinery; the noise of the coal as it passed through 
the screens, and the pounding of the shakers, all sounded like musio 
to him. The coal from the mines was hoisted up a plane to the top 
of the breaker and dumped into apocket, from which it was drawn 
and passed to the rollers and crushed. From the rollers the coal slid 
through chutes to the screens. The screens were about thirty feet 
long and five feet in diameter, the outlet end of each screen being 
about a f >ot and a half lower than the inlet end. The entire length 
was covered with segments, which were honeycombed with holes, 
those for the small-sized coal being first, then each size in order until 
the largest size foil out of the end of the screen. The crushed coal 
from the rollers entered the elevated end of the revolving screen, 
and was tossed around, each size of coal falling through the proper 
holes. A long water trough over each screen kept the coal wet. In 
some breakers the coal is run through dry, but that method creates 
too much dust. The fine coal was washed through a chute to shakers, 
on which were plates, with holes in them about the size of pin heads. 
The coal that fell through these holes was used in the boiler houses, 
and the residue went to a pocket from whioh it was loaded and hauled 
to tne dirt banks. Thechestnut coal and the stove coal slid down a 
chute and dropped into gigs. These were square, wooden tanks, half 
full of water, in which pan shaped arrangements, with plates, full of 
holes, bolted to the bottoms, worked up and down. A half-round 
attachment, called a cradle, was fastened to the bottom of the pan, in 
front, and it wasso arranged that it could be tilted and the contents 
d umped out. One end of a thick, iron rod, was keyed to the center of 
the pan, and the other end fastened to an offset on a shaft. When a 
gig was in motion the up and down movement of the pan agitated the 
water, and the coal, being light, easily moved over the plates, and 
through an opening in the front of the pan, into a casing, where it was 
picked up by an endless chain of buckets, which carried the coal to 
the top and dumped it in the chutes at which the boys were working. 
The small pieces of coal, and the dirt, fell through the holes in the 
plates and slid along the bottom of the tank, and was picked up by 
an endless chain of small buckets. The slate, being heavy, slid along 
the plates and dropped into the cradle, which was tilted about every 
half-hour, and the slate dumped out. The slate was carried to the top 
and hauled to the refuse pile. It was impossible for thegigs to remove 
all the slate from the coal, hence the need of elate pickers. There were 


45 

eight pickers to a chute, so the coal was as clean as it was possible to 
get it. 

As everything was new to John he naturally looked around now 
and then, and twice he saw the boss glaring at him. A little fellow, 
at the same chute as John, accidently threw a piece of coal into the 
slate box, and Sparks gave him a terrible shaking. Another boy got 
a cuff on the head because he talked to the boy next to him. It did 
not take much to arouse the man’s anger. 

At twelve o’clock the whistle blew, and the machinery stopped. 
John and Harry went off by themselves to eat their dinners, and to 
compare experiences. Both agreed that they liked the work, though 
it was tiresome sitting in one position all the time. But John said : “I 
guess we’ll get used to it," and Harry assented. “I’m afraid I won’t 
like the boss," said the latter. “He swore at one of the boys because 
he left a few pieces of slate pass. I don’t like men who swear." 

At one o’clock the machinery was pat in motion again and the 
crude coal worked into sizable, marketable pieces. At six o’clock the 
day’s work was finished, and our little friends were glad, because 
their backs ached and their arm and leg muscles were sore. 

While eating supper John was kept busy answering the questions 
his parents and sister asked him. In reply to one of hi3 father’s ques- 
tions John frankly told him about Sparks, and Mr. Small frowned and 
said: “I can’t understand why a man with such a temper is allowed 
to have authority over boys. To my mind it does more harm than 
good. Well, John, you do your best to please him but do not take 
any undeserved punishment from him." 

There were five hundred houses in Diamondville, which had been 
built by the coal company, and which were rented to the employees. 
There was a company store wiierethe people could buy their house- 
hold supplies. At the end of each month the company gave each 
employe an itemized bill. If the amount due the company exceeded 
a workman’s wages during the month the balance was added to the 
next month’s bill, no interest being charged. If there was a balance 
due the employe the amount was written on a stub, on the bottom of 
the itemized statement. 

The summer months passed by and the time to start school was 
at hand again. Harry intended to keep on working because his finan- 
cial support was needed at home. He would attend night scaool. John 
wanted to do the same but his sister and parents objected. The two 
boys had suffered some at the hands of theforeman -in fact none of 
the boys escaped punishment of some kind —butthey liked the work. 
John had often said to his chum: “Some day things will be all right; 
his meanness can’t last forever." 

Afew days before John was toleave the breaker, and go to school 
again, an accident occured in the mines. Mr. Small’s right leg was 
broken by a fall of coal. The local doctor set the leg and then the in- 
jured man was taken home. That evening the m ^mbers of the family 
talked things oyer. ^ They would receive five dollars a week from a 
beneficial organization of which Mr. Small was a member, but that 
•um would be inadequate to meet their expenses. John begged his 
parents let him continue to work, so they consented. 

H&llow’een came. All kinds of affairs had been arranged for the 
occasion. Several of the breaker boys had planned to play an old 
trick on Sparks. While all kinds of innocent pranks were being played 
In different parts of the town, these boys^ carried out their plan. The 
houses were built double, a family living in each side. There were no 
houses on the opposite side of the road at this place, so two of the boys 


46 

concealed a box, filled with decayed fruit, and very bad eggs, in the 
underbrush. The curtains were up and the boys could see Sparks 
seated in a rocking-chair, reading a paper. The man in the next house 
was sitting at a table, writing. While one of the boys acted as look* 
out, the rest worked cautiously and succeeded in stringing a heavy 
wire from he knob of the door on the foreman’s house to the one on 
his neighbor’s house, without attracting the attention of the two men. 
The wire was lef t. slack enough so that one of the doors could be opened 
about a foot. One of the boys threw several stones against the fore- 
man’s door, and a few seconds later one of the other boys done the 
same thing to the neighbor’s door. Sparks ran to the door, turned the 
knob, and gave the door a powerful pull. The door opened about a 
foot, then stopped suddenly, nearly dislocating the man’s arm. An 
awful curse came from him, then he unwisely stuck his head through 
the opening. At that instant the man in the next house tried to open 
his door. Of course, he couldn’t open it more than an inch or two and 
he pulled and tugged at a great rateand the more he exerted himself 
the more pressure he put on the door of his neighbor’s house and 
Sparks, whose neck was between the edge of the door and the casing, 
got a squeezing that made him howl. How those boys laughed when 
they heard him yell! The man in the next house got mad and he gave 
his door several hard jerks and the pain caused by theextra pressure 
made Sparks yeil louder than before. Then the boys threw their 
ammunition and in a few seconds the man’s head and face, and the 
door, was covered with the unsavory stuff. The neighbor realized by 
this time that something was wrong, so he went out the back way and 
around to the front of the house, and when he saw the wire he laughed 
heartily. He unfastened the wire from his door, then went into the 
house, chuckling. How Sparks swore! and how those boys laughed I 
Many times the foreman had hurt them, and now they had evened 
things up a little. He raved like a madman, and if any of the boys had 
falleninto his clutches that night, they would have rued it for many 
days. But the youngsters hied themselves off toother amusements. 

The next morning, while Sparks was on his way to work, several 
men stopped him and guyed him about the affair of the night before. 
The bantering aroused the man’s temper and anger worse than ever, 
and when he arrived at the breaker he was in a terrible rage. The 
boys knew that they would have to be good that day so when the 
whistle blew every one of them hurried to their proper places, eager 
to do their best. 

Sparks glared at the boys. He hoped that he’d be able to detect 
theguilty ones, but he was unable to do so. The outside foreman 
came in, said something to Sparks, laughed, and passed on. The scowl 
on his face got darker. Trouble was coming ana the boys wondered 
which one of them the blow would hit. 

John and Harry were working at the same chute now, and were 
near enough to talk to each other. That morning John’s father had 
told a funny story. On the way to work John had told it to his chum 
and they enjoyed a good laugh. About two hours after they started 
to work the story cameto their minds, and they looked at each other 
and burst out laughing. They had forgotten about the boss, but that 
worthy had his eyes open, and he thought the boys were laughing at 
him. He grabbed the boys by their collars and jerked them out on 
the floor, and the way he handled the youngsters was a caution. 
When his wrath bad subsided somewhat he put the boys to work at 
the top of the egg coal chute. 

Of all the places on the breaker those most dreaded by the pickers 


were these two places at the top of egg coal chute. The coat dropped 
from the end of the screen and slid down a chute about twenty-five 
feet before it reached the first two pickers. These two boys would 
hold the coal back and pick the slate out as they let it slowly pass. 
The sliding coal from the screen would hit the coal that was held back 
and small pieces, about the size of pin heads, would break off and fly 
through the air, and drops of sulphur-water would be splashed around. 
(Sometimes a small piece of coal or a drop of sulphur-water would get 
I n a picker’s eye and cause him great inconvenience until he managed 
to get the piece of coal or the drop of sulphur- water worked out, all 
the whileaoing his best to keep his work going properly. Egg coal is 
very rough and the boys tender fingers were soon sore. They put 
1 eather finger protectors on but Sparks made the boys take them off. 
He knew what torture sore fingers were, and the fact seemed to ph ase 
him. A week passed by and John and Harry found out how hard it- 
was to handle coal and slate with sore fingers, especially when the 
sores would crack open and sulphur-water would get in them. But 
the youngsters were game, they did not complain. 

One day Sparks w r as standing near John, and a piece of slate passed 
that the boss thought the boy should have picked out. He gave the- 
boy a stinging slap on his cheek. The pain brought tears to his eyee 
And he would have resented it, but just then the Superintendent and 
his fourteen-year-old daughter entered. Sparks hastened to meet 
them, and while the two men talked, Miss Edna walked over tovarefc 
oneof the shakers to watch it work. Near the shaker was a revolving 
shaft, parallel with the floor, about a foot above it. It was boxed in, 
except at one place, where an iron fence was placed. The fence could 
be swung aside so that heavy timber and machinery could be taken, 
across. At this point the shaft was joinedtogether by a coupling. At 
the end of the shaft were sliding gears, and when in mesh, they oper- 
ated a drag line. By pulling a lever the gears could be disengaged, and 
the drag line stopped without interfering with the rest of the breaker 
machinery. 

For some reason the fence was not around the shaft, and as Miss 
Edna approached it she was not watching closely. Her dress caught 
on the coupling and started to wind on the shaft! There was no one 
near enough to hear her screams. From his place at the top of the 
chute John could see the shaft and by some lucky chance he glanced 
that way just as the girl’s dress caught on the coupling. He rushed 
over to the lever, ana by pulling with all his strength, he managed to 
eeperate the gears just in time. Her dress was made of strong materia 1 
and her limbs had been drawn tight against the shaft. Another rev- 
olution of the shaft would have pulled her off her feet. 

From where they stood the Superintendent and Sparks could not 
*ee the girl, so they were surprised to see John leave his place, ai d 
they went around the chute. Miss Edna was very weak and John was 
holding her up. One of the other boys pulled the signal w ire and the 
engineer stopped the machinery. 

Sparks cut the dress with his pocket-knife, and the girl told them 
what had happened. She held out her hands to John and he was going 
to grasp them when he noticed blood on his own hands. He tiied to 
hide them but the Superintendent had seen them. Theexertion, wheit 
he pulled the lever, had started the blood to oozing out of the sores 
on his finger tips. The Superintendent questioned John and the 
other boys and he learned how hard it was on the fingers and hands 
to pick slate at the egg coal chute. Then he noticed how red and 
slightly swollen John’s face was and he asked the boy about it. 


48 

John hesitated. Would his father approve if he told how they 
•were treated by Sparks? Should he take advantage of the opportuni- 
ty and tell everything? Perhaps the Superintendent did not know 
how mean the foreman really was. Just then the outside foreman 
came in and John decided not to let the chance slip away so he told 
the whole story, and he was backed by several of the boys who, im- 
pressed by their fellow-worker’s brave stand, lost their fear of the 
foreman. Sparks was discharged and ordered to leave the place. 

The Superintendent and the outside foreman conferred together 
for a few minutes, then the machinery was put in motion again. John 
was told to take the balance of the day off, and to tell his father that 
the Superintendent wanted tosee him. 

Mr. Small’s leg was nearly better, and he could walk around with- 
out the aid of crutches now. He was surprised to see John coming 
home before noon, and he listened attentively to his son’s story. 

“You done what was right, my boy,” he said, when John had 
finished. Then he went up to the office. 

‘‘Hello, Mr. Small, glad to see you,” greeted the Superintendent. 
"I am pleased to know that you are getting along all right. Dr. Ard- 
more told me that you must not work in the mines any more. I am 
sorry to know it, because you are one of our best miners. But I have 
a place for you. I want you to take charge of the breaker boys. You 
will get more pay than Sparks got. I did not know that the man was 
so mean. I am going to put your son in the machine shop so he can 
learn the machinist’s trade. Are you satisfied?” 

“Yes, sir, I am satisfied,” replied Mr. Small, *‘and I thank you 
very much. I will treat the boysrigbt. Good day, sir,” and he left the 
office and went back home. 

The boys were treated fine by Mr. Small, and they done their best 
for him at all times. The egg coal chute was altered and it was made 
easier for the boys to pick slate there. John learned the machinist’s 
trade and later on he became the head machinistfor the oompany. 

(The end.) 

































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